Picking up the Pieces
by RedQ
Summary: A large scar was visible on Barry's inner forearm. It wasn't just a normal scar though. It was a brand. The numbers 0227 had been permanently burnt into his skin. Joe felt himself be consumed with white hot rage when he looked at it. They had branded his son like he was some kind of animal. (Part 2 to The First Cut is the Deepest. Can be read by itself though.)
1. The Worst is Yet to Come

**Part 2 to The First Cut is the Deepest.**

 **You can read this without reading the first part, which is extremely graphic and gory.**

 **Warning: This part of the story focuses more on** ** _emotional_** **pain than physical, but there will still be graphic scenes, and some may find different aspects of this story triggering or disturbing.**

 **Note: I recommend reading my stories through Archive of Our Own. Through AO3, I'm able to include media—links, pictures, videos, etc.**

* * *

 **The Worst is Yet to Come**

* * *

There was only so much Caitlin could do under these circumstances. She didn't have bandages. She didn't have an IV kit or sutures or anything to work with in the van. All she had was a partially conscious and emaciated Barry, lying naked on the floor of the vehicle. To make things worse, on the other side of him kneeled the Nazi-like doctor who had done this to him.

"Are there any immediate life threats I should know about?" Caitlin asked her stiffly.

"No," the woman said in her thick, Russian accent, "We were very careful not to do anything that would kill him."

"How thoughtful of you," Caitlin muttered as she felt Barry's pulse.

It was weak, but it was there.

"How can I help?" Dr. Holland asked desperately.

Caitlin didn't answer her. She was busy covering Barry with another blanket. He wouldn't stop shivering, and his breath kept hitching in his throat. Caitlin wished she at least had an oxygen tank in the van for him, but there was nothing. She continued to assess his wounds as she spoke to him.

"Barry? Barry? Can you hear me?"

Barry didn't look at her or respond. His eyes half open, he stared straight ahead at the ceiling of the van, his breathing becoming more and more labored.

Caitlin braced herself as the van took a sharp turn. She wished she could see what she was doing better. Being nighttime, the back of the van was much too dark for her to work.

His wounds were difficult to locate, mainly due to the large amount of dried blood covering his body. Caitlin pulled back the blanket to check his torso. Underneath all the bruising and dried blood, Caitlin was able to see that several of his ribs were broken. Barry whimpered when she gently palpated them, and she withdrew her hands away immediately, not wanting to cause him more pain.

Barry had suffered enough pain for a lifetime.

She was alarmed when Barry started taking short gasping breaths, each one more labored than the last. Caitlin opened his mouth to check his airway, but it was clear. She couldn't figure out why Barry was suddenly having trouble getting air into his lungs.

"Why is he breathing like this?" Caitlin asked the other doctor harshly, "What did you people do?"

"Nothing," Dr. Holland said honestly, "I can't think of any reason why he would have trouble breathing right now. We did all of our respiratory experiments ages ago."

Caitlin glared at her as she grabbed Barry's shoulders, lifting them up so she could slide her legs underneath him. Raising his head slightly was the only thing she could think to do to get Barry to breathe easier. When his respirations grew weaker, Caitlin started to panic.

"We need to get there _now_!" Caitlin shouted to the driver.

"Almost there!" Dig shouted back to her.

When they pulled up to STAR Labs a moment later, Barry was barely breathing. They threw open the doors to the van and were joined instantly by the others. They didn't waste time by grabbing a gurney. Without thinking, Joe scooped Barry easily into his arms and ran as fast as he could into the building. He tried not to focus on his son's labored breaths or the fact that Barry was completely limp in his arms. His only thought was getting him into the medical bay, where they could save him. Joe felt his stomach drop when he realized Barry's breathing had stopped altogether.

Felicity had been waiting for them at the lab. Joe ignored her questions when they all suddenly burst into the cortex. He rushed right past her, and once he was inside the med bay, Joe deposited his son onto one of the medical beds. Caitlin wasted no time getting to Barry's bedside. She tilted his head back gently to open his airway, and grabbed a bag valve mask, sealing it around Barry's mouth and nose.

"Cisco, come here and do ventilations!" she directed.

Cisco didn't hesitate to step forward and take the bag from her, squeezing it gently to force air into Barry's lungs. They all felt a slight relief when they saw Barry's bony chest rise. Cisco continued to provide steady ventilations for Barry while Caitlin attached oxygen to the mask and started listening to Barry's lung sounds with her stethoscope. She couldn't even get the diaphragm of the stethoscope to lie flat on Barry's skin. There was no cushioning between the bones of his torso, making the surface of Barry's chest bumpy everywhere she placed it.

The others didn't know what to do as they stood there and watched her work. Barry wasn't moving or breathing on his own, but his heart was still beating. To the others, though, it looked like they were trying to save a corpse. Barry was practically a skeleton, and he looked so…lifeless—with his limp body and half-open eyes staring in a way that was almost catatonic. It was like he was all but dead already.

"Do you want me to start an IV?" Dr. Holland asked her.

"No! You don't touch him!" Caitlin said angrily, "Someone just get her out of here! Let her leave. Lock her in the pipeline. I don't care! Just get her out!"

Roy grabbed a hold of Dr. Holland and led her from the room towards the pipeline. Dr. Holland didn't resist. She didn't even argue the fact that she had just helped them get Barry out of there. She just let Roy lead her from the room without protest.

Caitlin needed to figure out how to get Barry breathing on his own again, but to do that, she needed to find out what had caused him to stop breathing in the first place. She ran a quick ventilation perfusion scan, and her fears were confirmed.

"Caitlin, what is it?" Cisco asked, still squeezing the bag on the mask that was over Barry's face.

"He's having a pulmonary embolism," she said, quickly drawing up some medication, "I'm going to give him a thrombolytic to correct it."

Joe stepped forward to stand on the opposite side of the bed from her, looking down at his son. He grabbed Barry's cold, limp hand and squeezed it.

"Hang in there, Bar," he said to him as Caitlin injected the medication into Barry's other arm, "Stay with us."

Caitlin didn't wait to see what effect the medication had. She moved on to assess Barry's injuries now that she was in better light, while Cisco continued to provide ventilations for Barry.

"He has so many broken bones, and I'm sure internal damage. I'm going to have to take some MRIs and X-rays," Caitlin said, palpating Barry's abdomen gently.

"Here," Roy said, having reentered the room.

He handed Caitlin a stack of papers and some jump drives.

"That doctor insisted that I give these to you. She told me to tell you they were taken just this afternoon."

Caitlin looked down at the films urgently. She only looked at them for a moment however before she turned to Cisco.

"Stop giving the ventilations for a second," she told him, "I want to see if he can do it on his own now."

Cisco pulled the bag valve mask off Barry's face. They all held their breaths for several seconds before Barry finally took a shuttering breath on his own. They collectively let out a sigh of relief. Caitlin quickly placed a nonrebreather mask over the lower half of Barry's face to give him oxygen as he caught his breath.

Iris felt rooted to the spot as she watched things progress from a few feet away. She wanted to go and stand next to her father by Barry. She wanted to be close to him to provide whatever support she could, but she couldn't make herself move. All those weeks, she would have killed to go to Barry and comfort him, and now that she could, she couldn't make her legs work. It was as if she was afraid he would suddenly stop breathing again if she moved a single muscle. She was paralyzed by the fear she felt for Barry.

"Is he okay now, Caitlin?" Joe asked urgently, still squeezing Barry's skeletal hand.

"He should be stable now," Caitlin told all of them, "He must have had a blot clot somewhere. It most likely formed over one of his broken bones. When we moved him off that table, it caused the clot to break lose and travel to his lungs. I gave him a blood thinner, which helped it, but now we have to worry about internal bleeding. From the looks of his scans, it looks like he has some significant damage to his internal organs."

Caitlin looked through some of the papers Dr. Holland had grabbed from the lab. Her face darkened as she quickly read through some of the experiments that had been done to him.

"Oh, my God," she muttered, reading through one of the reports.

She looked like she was going to be sick.

"What did they do, Caitlin?" Cisco asked her.

She took a moment before answering him.

"You see all of these incisions here?" she asked them all, pointing at the unhealed cuts all over Barry's torso.

They all nodded.

"They're from surgeries that they've done to him," Caitlin said darkly, " _Awake_ surgeries."

They all mirrored her disgusted look, completely horrified by what she was telling them.

Caitlin's eyes then fell on the center of Barry's chest.

"Oh, my God," she said again, touching the sutured incision lightly—tears sprang to her eyes when she saw it, "They didn't…"

"What is it, Caitlin?" Joe asked her angrily, "What did they do to him?"

"They…" Caitlin choked, pressing a hand to her lips for a moment before continuing, "They performed heart surgery on him, too."

They all looked at her in shock and then at Barry. Sure enough, he had a long, sutured incision down the front of his chest.

"They cracked his chest?" Oliver asked angrily, "While he was _awake?!_ "

Caitlin nodded, blinking back tears. She touched the incision again, still not quite believing it was really there. Barry was shaking violently under her touch. His every muscle was tensed in fear as he continued to stare straight forward.

"Let's get some clothes on him," Joe said, looking pitifully at his son.

Cisco stepped forward to help Joe get some sweatpants on Barry. The scientists had stripped Barry of any dignity he had and dehumanized him in every way. They all felt like it was the least they could do to clothe Barry now and respect the little privacy they could give him.

Barry didn't move or speak as they maneuvered him to dress him. He was awake, though, his eyes still staring blankly forward. Every time one of them touched him, however, he would tense slightly and a small whimper escaped his throat, indicating he was at least partially aware of his surroundings.

The pants didn't even remotely fit him. They probably could have fit two of Barry into the pants with how loose they were around his waist. At least he was covered now, though.

Caitlin did her best to assess Barry while touching him as little as possible. Her eyes raked over Barry's torso again. Most of the incision sites were sutured already, but some were still left open. She would have to close them or they would be risking infection.

"I have to stitch up a few wounds on him, yet," Caitlin told them quietly, "You can all stay in the room if you want, but you should probably not stand too close to him."

They all nodded and backed away towards the wall. Caitlin grabbed her things and set them next to Barry's bed. Before making the first stitch to a cut on his abdomen, she spoke gently to him.

"Easy, Barry," she soothed in a hushed voice, "It's just me. It's Caitlin. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to stitch you up, okay?"

Barry didn't seem to have heard her. He was still staring blankly forward, shaking slightly as his breath continued to hitch in his throat. He tensed when she applied iodide to the wound. When she made the first stitch, Barry gasped.

"It's okay, Barry," she said to him, "It's just me. You're okay."

Barry suddenly turned his head to look at her, panic in his eyes as they focused on her face. Finally, he moved.

He grabbed her arm painfully to stop her from touching him, and he used his other arm to pull himself as far away from her as possible, grimacing in pain with the movement. Everyone rushed forward instinctively to help the young doctor, but it only caused Barry to panic more when he found himself suddenly surrounded by so many people.

Barry started to scream hysterically when they touched him. He thrashed violently, trying to escape their grasp.

Joe and Oliver tried to grab hold of Barry's thrashing legs, trying not to apply not too much pressure to where they were broken while also trying not to get kicked in the process. Caitlin and Cisco tried desperately to hold Barry's arms.

"Barry, stop, it's okay," Cisco shouted to him, just as the arm he was holding down managed to break free and make contact with the side of his face.

Still yelling hysterically, Barry started to vibrate, desperate to get out from their hold. In an instant, he managed to wrestle free from them and flash to the other side of the room. He didn't get very far on his broken legs, however, and collapsed only a few feet away. He screamed and clutched at his legs, his panic seeming only to increase with the renewed pain. Before they could move towards him, Barry tried to run again, disappearing again with a burst of speed. They heard a clatter as he knocked over a surgical tray, and they quickly turned to see him huddled in the corner of the medical room.

Barry was no longer shouting now. He sat whimpering in the corner, one hand supporting him against the cold floor, the other still holding onto one of his injured legs. His eyes darted about the room, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He stared at all of them in fear. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and he still had the needle and thread dangling from his stomach where Caitlin had only made one stitch.

"Barry," Joe said softly, cautiously kneeling down a good few feet away from him to give him space, "Barry, it's me. It's Joe."

Barry didn't change. He stayed huddled in the corner, watching them vigilantly in case they tried anything.

"Bar," Iris said gently, kneeling down next to her father as she outstretched her hand, "It's okay, we're not going to hurt you."

Barry tried to withdraw further into the corner, but he was already tight against it. When Iris brought her hand closer to him, Barry's arms flinched up, shielding his head. She pulled her hand away, completely heartbroken. Barry thought that she was going to hit him. He really thought she was going to hit him. Iris's heart tore in two.

"You're safe, Bar," Joe said desperately, "We're just trying to help you, okay? You're safe now."

Joe inched a little closer.

"No!" Barry cried, cringing away from him, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

It killed Joe to see Barry so afraid of him. He was completely terrified, and none of them could do anything to help him. Joe and Iris slowly got up from the floor and backed away from him.

"What should we do?" Joe asked, standing back with the others.

"We can't get through to him right now," Oliver said, looking at Barry with solemn eyes, "We'll have to restrain him."

"Are you crazy?!" Iris snapped, "After what he's just been through? We can't put restraints on him!"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Oliver sighed, "He's going to keep trying to run, and his legs are completely shattered. He's just hurting himself."

They all stood there a moment, thinking as they looked down at Barry huddled in the corner. He was sobbing now, staring at them in fear. He knew they would move in on him eventually, and there was nothing he'd be able to do about it, and that absolutely terrified him.

"Okay," Caitlin said reluctantly, "I guess we don't have a choice."

She walked over and pulled out several cravats.

"I don't exactly keep restraints on hand here, but these should work just fine," she said, looping the small strips of medical cloth, "They should be soft enough."

She gave one to Oliver, Joe, Dig and Cisco. They each decided on which of Barry's limbs they were each going to take, and after a nervous nod at each other, the four men moved in. Barry started screaming instantly, but they crowded around him anyways.

"No!" Barry cried, "Please! Please! No!"

He fought them hard, trying to escape them again, but they held him down, each slipping their restraint over one of his wrists or ankles. They managed to half carry, half drag the screaming man back over to the bed, where they wrestled with his limbs, tying them to the frame of the bed. When he was secured, they all stepped away from Barry right away, trying not to crowd him any more than they had to.

Barry pulled violently against the restraints in desperation, but it was futile. He started to cry.

"Oh, God," Barry sobbed, "Please! Please, no more! I can't take any more! No more surgeries! Please!"

"We're not going to hurt you, Barry," Caitlin choked, tears forming in her eyes as Barry begged.

Barry kept tugging desperately against the restraints. They were soft, but his already scabbed over wrists and ankles were starting to bleed from the pulling.

"Please," he continued to sob, "No more tests. Just please. Please stop. I can't do this anymore. I can't do this."

Their hearts broke to see him this way. Joe started to cry, feeling guilty they had to do this to him. He knew restraining Barry was only going to traumatize him further, but they didn't really have any other options.

After several minutes, Caitlin moved to sit next to Barry again. She touched his stomach gently as he whimpered.

"Barry, I'm so sorry, but I have to close this up," she told him reluctantly, "I'll try to go fast for you."

Without waiting for a reply, Caitlin resumed stitching Barry up. He started to yell again, but she kept working, trying to go as fast as she could. Guiltily, she moved onto the next cut. It took her nearly an hour to finish stitching all of his wounds, a painful hour during which Barry screamed and cried the entire time, and the rest of them stood by helplessly, unable to comfort him.

When Caitlin was done, she backed away from Barry as quickly as possible.

"That should be it for stitches, but there's still so much more to do," she told the rest of them shakily.

Barry sobbed as he laid on the bed. Even though they weren't locked up on the other side of a glass wall now, they all still felt the same helplessness when they were unable to comfort him.

Iris approached the side of the bed with tears streaming down her face. Barry stared at her fearfully as she took his hand. He flinched at her touch and slightly withdrew his hand, but she held it anyways.

"Barry," she said gently, "It's me. It's Iris."

Barry continued to give her the same terrified look, his breathing growing more ragged.

"Iris," her dad said, standing next to her, "I know you want to help him, but right now, I think you're just scaring him more."

"I can break through," she said earnestly, "I think I can break through to him."

"Not right now," Joe said gently to her, "Right now, he just needs to heal."

Reluctantly, Iris released Barry's hand. She turned and hugged her father, crying into his shoulder.

Barry went back to staring at the ceiling, still shaking violently. He was starting to hyperventilate now.

"I think we're overwhelming him," Caitlin told the others, "I still have to rebreak and reset quite a few of his bones. It's going to be brutal, and I think it might go smoother if we're not all in the room."

They all took one look at Barry and couldn't help but agree with her.

"I think it's about time we get going anyways," Oliver sighed.

Felicity looked incredulously at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "We can't leave _now_. We only just got Barry here."

"We've been away from Star City for too long," Oliver insisted.

"We can't leave, Oliver," Felicity persisted, "Barry needs us."

"Barry needs his _family,_ " Oliver corrected, "We've done all we can do for him. Our presence here isn't going to help him now. Trust me, I want to stay here with Barry, too, but we have responsibilities back in Star City. We can't afford to spend another night here."

"I can't just leave him," Felicity said, "I can't leave without knowing he's going to be okay."

Oliver sighed.

"Okay," he said, "You can stay here if you want to, Felicity, but the rest of us really need to get back."

He looked at Diggle and Roy, who both nodded at him before leaving the room. Oliver paused by the doorway. He took one last sad look at Barry, and then looked at Caitlin and Felicity.

"Keep me updated?" he asked sadly.

They both nodded. Oliver let out a heavy sigh, and then turned and left the room. The rest of them also filtered out, leaving just Caitlin and Cisco in the room to work on Barry.

Joe, Iris, and Felicity all sat in the cortex in silence. It wasn't long, however, before they all could hear Barry's screams resume in the next room. Even from out in the cortex, they could hear the sound of bones being rebroken and snapped into place.

It seemed to go on forever. Iris didn't know how she still had any tears left. She thought her tear ducts would have dried up by now, but no. A continuous stream of tears streaked down her face as she listened to Barry scream over and over again. She looked down and saw that her hands were shaking. This was almost as horrible as it had been sitting in the room next to him watching those scientists torture him with their unspeakable experiments. She just wanted the screaming to stop, and after nearly two hours had gone by, finally it did.

Cisco emerged from the room. He looked exhausted, and his eyes were red and wet.

"We're done," he said shakily, "You guys can come in now."

They all walked over to the doorway. Cisco hesitated.

"Just…don't make too much noise," Cisco advised, "No sudden movements, and whatever you do, don't touch him. He's exhausted, and we're trying to get him to calm down now."

Cautiously, they entered the medical bay. Caitlin was laying a blanket over Barry, who did not look good at all. His face was gray, tear stains etched into his cheeks. His eyes were red and staring open wide as he shook uncontrollably.

"We're done for the night," Caitlin said to them in a hushed tone.

She looked sadly at Barry's traumatized face.

"I need him to calm down enough to sleep now. He needs rest."

"Shouldn't we clean him up first?" Felicity whispered.

Barry was still covered in blood and filth.

"I would like to," Caitlin said regretfully, "But I don't want to do more than what's absolutely necessary right now. He really needs sleep."

Barry let out a gasp. His breathing was heavy and irregular.

"Please," he said in a small voice, "Please, just leave. Don't hurt me anymore. Please."

"Barry…" Caitlin said softly.

"I feel pain," he breathed, "I'm a person."

"I know, Barry," she said gently, "I know. There won't be any more pain now. Not tonight."

Barry started to sob, tears streaming down his face. They all stayed silent and sat down in chairs a good distance from the bed. They wanted so badly to help Barry, to comfort him, but they knew that the best way to do that now was to keep their distance.

Everyone sat silently for a long time while Barry cried. Eventually, his sobs died away, and his exhaustion won over his panic. His eyelids slowly started to droop as he fell asleep. He fought it, snapping his eyes open again every couple minutes or so, but eventually he wasn't able to fight it any longer, and Barry fell into an uneasy sleep. They all were careful not to make any noise. Even the slightest sound seemed to cause Barry to snap awake instantly.

They all decided then that it was best they leave the room. They didn't want to risk accidentally waking him up when he had just finally gotten to sleep. They all left and sat out in the cortex, where they could still see Barry through the med bay window.

As a whole, they looked like a complete mess. They looked exactly like how you would expect a group of people who had been taken and held hostage for weeks to look. Cisco was now sporting a black eye from where Barry had hit him, and Caitlin's arm was bruised from where he had grabbed her.

Iris's eyes were red and puffy. She seemed to have finally ran out of tears, but her throat was still sore, adding to the feeling that she could start crying again at any moment.

"I don't know what to expect," Caitlin said sadly, "The psychological damage that's been done to him is going to be much harder to treat than the physical damage."

"His mind is shattered," Joe whispered brokenly, "He…he doesn't even seem to _recognize_ us."

"He's in a lot of pain," Caitlin explained, "Barry's mind is still locked in a prolonged fight or flight mode. It's clouding all other thoughts, his survival instincts taking over."

"Well, how do we fix it?" Iris asked desperately.

Caitlin shook her head sadly.

"It's not going to be easy," she told them, "It's not like simply flipping a switch. Barry's in a chronic state of _panic_ right now. He has been for weeks. Barry's mind and body have been panicking nonstop for weeks. It's not going to turn off easily, not with everything that's been done to him."

"Maybe if he just gets some sleep," Joe sighed, "Those scientists _never_ let him sleep. That, alone, is enough to cause someone's mind to snap."

"Sleep should help," Caitlin agreed, "He should do better once his mind finally allows his body to rest. He's not used to resting now, though. He's used to endless pain, twenty-four hours a day. It might take a while to retrain his mind to…to establish a sense of _safety_."

They all nodded sadly and looked at the floor, not knowing what to do—how to help.

"You all should get some rest, too," Felicity finally said, looking at all of them, "I can watch out for him tonight if you guys want to go home and clean up and eat something."

"I'm good here," Joe said, looking at Barry through the window.

His heart clenched every time he looked at Barry's bruised, gaunt face. Barry's thin limbs were all still restrained to the bed frame as he slept. It was a heartbreaking sight. He didn't even look like _Barry_ anymore.

No one else seemed to want to leave either. After weeks of sitting in a room wondering where Barry was and what was happening to him, none of them wanted to let Barry out of their sight now.

"Joe," Caitlin said, "I think you and Iris should go home and get some sleep. There's nothing more you can do here tonight. I don't want to leave Felicity alone, so I'll stay with her here. We'll look out for him, and you can come see him in the morning."

"I don't want to leave his side," Iris said stubbornly.

"You have to go home at some point," Felicity pointed out to them, "It's probably best that you do it now, when Barry is still out of it. He's going to wake up later and need you, and it will be better if you both are well rested."

It took quite a bit of persuading, but eventually Joe and Iris reluctantly agreed to go home, leaving Caitlin, Cisco, and Felicity to stay at STAR Labs to care for Barry.

When they pulled up to their house, Joe and Iris were shocked to see 'do not cross' tape on their front door. Then they remembered; the CCPD had been looking for them. It would only make sense that they would have searched the house. Joe would have to contact them eventually. He still didn't know what exactly he was going to tell them, but that wasn't one of his priorities at the moment. Now, all he could think about was Barry and how much he was struggling right now.

When they crossed the tape and walked through the front door, they couldn't help but notice how unreal this all felt. They were home. The house felt too…normal. It was as if the last few weeks had never even happened.

Except they did.

Every time either of them thought about Barry, how terrible he looked, how emotionally broken he was, they felt sick to their stomachs.

Joe and Iris both showered, but they were both feeling too sick to eat anything. It's not as if they were starving anyways. Although the food at the military facility hadn't been good, at least there had been plenty of it.

"What's going to happen now, dad?" Iris asked her father miserably.

He didn't need to ask to know what she meant.

"We're going to get him back," Joe answered firmly, "It might take some time, but we're going to get our Barry back."

"I don't know how a person can ever come back from this," she said hopelessly, "What those people did to him…It's just too much. He's so far gone…"

"Barry will be Barry again," Joe said surely, "We just have to give him time. The worst of it is over now."

Iris shook her head absently.

"Somehow, I don't think that's true…"


	2. Can't Get You Out of My Head

**Can't Get You Out of My Head**

* * *

Both Iris and Joe didn't get much sleep that night. As amazing as it was to finally be back in their own beds—or any beds for that matter—they couldn't sleep knowing how badly Barry was struggling. They both couldn't get those images of him out their heads, of Barry restrained and helpless. He had looked so terrible—thin and bloodied from the experiments the scientists had done on him. The images haunted their dreams, causing both of them to wake up multiple times throughout the night.

By six in the morning, Joe and Iris were already on their way back to STAR Labs, anxious to see Barry again.

Felicity was rubbing her eyes when they both walked into the med bay. She and Cisco were the only ones in there. Barry was still laying in the bed where they had last seen him, and like the night before, he was still staring blankly at the ceiling.

"How's he doing?" Joe asked anxiously, not going too close to the bed.

"He hasn't slept much," Felicity told him tiredly, "He's been like this all night."

"Barry?" Joe said softly, slowly stepping closer to the bed.

Barry didn't flinch or react in the slightest. Joe looked at his arms and saw that Barry was still restrained. The cravats they had used to tie him down were now red, soaked through with blood from Barry's tugging and pulling.

Barry looked almost worse than Joe had remembered. His face and body were covered in bruises, all of different ages. Some were yellowing; others were still different shades of black and blue. At least they had now washed the blood off Barry, and he was covered up now with multiple blankets, so they couldn't see how badly his ribs were sticking out. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Joe also saw that Barry's fingernails had been pulled off on one of his hands. He repressed the urge to vomit at the sight of it.

On Barry's other arm, a large scar was visible on his inner forearm. It wasn't just a normal scar, though. It was a brand. The numbers 0227 had been permanently burnt into his skin. Joe felt himself be consumed with white hot rage when he looked at it. They had branded his son like he was some kind of animal.

Iris turned to Cisco and Felicity.

"Where's Caitlin?" she asked.

"We insisted she go take a nap," Cisco answered, "She's still here, though. She didn't want to leave, just in case something happened. We've been watching over Barry for the last two hours, but he hasn't changed."

"He needs to sleep," Iris said worriedly.

"Caitlin thought about sedating him," Felicity told them, "But she was worried about all the other drugs that were in his system. She figured he's already had enough drugs injected into his body over the last nine weeks."

"Nine weeks?!" Joe ejected, his eyes widening, "Is that really how long we were gone?"

"Yes," Felicity nodded, "I'm so sorry. It took me so long to find you guys."

"Don't apologize, Felicity," Joe said quickly, "If it weren't for you, we would still be there."

Joe sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"It's just… _nine weeks_?!"

Felicity nodded sadly.

"That's a long time," she whispered, "For somebody to suffer through everything Barry has had to endure."

Iris felt a twisting sensation in her stomach when she realized Barry had only been visible to them for about three of those nine weeks. The other six…God knows what those people were doing to him for that entire time.

She approached Barry's bed to stand next to her dad. Barry was practically catatonic. His eyes were blank and hollow as he stared at nothing. His mind was just gone. Iris's own eyes filled with tears, seeing him so empty. Her Barry had to still be in there somewhere. He had to be.

She reached out and lightly touched his hand. Barry gasped and jumped so hard it scared her and caused her to take a step back. Barry finally looked at her then, terror filling his previously empty eyes.

"Barry, it's me," Iris said desperately.

She didn't reach for his hand again, knowing her touch was unwanted. Barry's eyes seemed to focus in and out on her. She stepped slightly closer to him so he could see her better.

Barry stared at her for a long time. Although still scared, his face started to take on a more confused expression as he looked at her. Suddenly, recognition dawned on his features.

"I-Iris?" he whispered weakly.

"It's me, Barry," she said, a small smile on her face despite the tears in her eyes, "It's Iris."

Barry's facial expression changed. For a moment, his fear had been gone. For just a fleeting moment, Barry had looked relieved. Now, his expression hardened, becoming blank again.

"This isn't real," he said flatly, his hopes vanishing.

He turned his head away from her then, his face crumpling.

"It _is_ real, Barry," Iris said desperately, "It's me. I'm really here."

Tentatively, she reached for his hand again, but he pulled it away. At least, the best he could considering he was still restrained to the bed frame.

"Why are you doing this?!" he burst angrily, taking them by surprise, "Why are you tormenting me this way?! Why can't you just get out of my head?!"

"Barry, this is _real_ ," Iris told him, "This isn't in your head. I'm really here. You're safe now."

"This is cruel. It's sick, and it's cruel. Just get out of my head," he gritted, "Get out of my head."

Iris started to cry. Barry didn't believe her. She couldn't convince him that he was safe. He thought he was dreaming or hallucinating that she was there. He thought he was still there, on that table, about to endure another experiment.

"Barry," Joe said gently, leaning closer to him, "You're safe now. This is real. We were rescued last night, and you're safe now."

Barry looked at him, and after a moment his eyes widened as he finally allowed himself to consider the possibility that this was really happening.

"I'm safe?" he whispered softly.

"You're safe," Iris assured him, "No one is going to hurt you now."

She thought she saw tears well in Barry's eyes, but he didn't cry. He turned away from her, his eyebrows furrowed as he processed this information. Tentatively, he tugged on one of the restraints on his wrists.

"I need these off _now_ ," he said urgently, "Now!"

"Okay, Bar," Joe said quickly.

He looked at the others questioningly, but when no one objected, he untied one of the cravats, the one nearest to him. As soon as one of Barry's hands were free, Barry immediately used it to try to untie the other one. His fingers were sloppy and uncoordinated, though, as he worked on untying the restraint, and he started to breathe heavily in a panic when he struggled with the knot.

"Here, Barry, I've got it," Joe said, reaching across him to help him with the restraint.

Barry noticeably tensed up when Joe reached over him, but he didn't object. There was something about the way Barry was looking at him, though, that gave Joe a terrible feeling. Barry's eyes were filled with mistrust.

When both his hands were free, Barry started to breathe a little more calmly. He rubbed his sore wrists and bent his elbows over and over again, like it was the best feeling in the world.

Barry then tried to sit up to untie his legs, but Iris held a hand out to stop him.

"Let Cisco do it," she said softly to him, while Cisco moved to untie Barry's ankles.

"I need to sit up," Barry told her urgently, "Please, I can't lay like this a second longer. I need to sit up."

She nodded in understanding. Barry had spent nine long weeks lying flat on a table, unable to bend his arms and legs. Once his ankles were freed, they wasted no time helping Barry scoot up in bed to rest his back against the headboard. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around them, resting his forehead on top of them as he reveled in the glorious change of position.

Barry sat this way for a long time, with his head down so they couldn't see his face. No one spoke or made any move to touch him. They just stood there silently, letting Barry adjust. When Barry heard Iris finally take a step towards him, his head snapped up, and he eyed her suspiciously. Iris froze. She had never seen that look on his face before, a look of pure mistrust. She didn't move any closer.

"Can I get you anything, Barry?" she asked him gently, "What do you need?"

"Water," Barry answered immediately, "I need water."

Barry was still extremely dehydrated, even though Caitlin had started him on an IV.

"I'll get it," Felicity said, exiting the room right away.

She returned a moment later holding a bottle of water and a small cup. She filled the cup only half way.

"Let's take it slow," she said gently, "We don't want you to make yourself sick."

When she held the water out to Barry, he snatched it from her instantly as if he had been expecting her to pull it away before he could take it. As if still expecting someone to take it away from him, Barry turned slightly and held the water as far from them as possible as he drank it. He drained the cup within seconds. He spilled quite a bit of it with his shaky hands and quick movements, but he didn't care. He was already handing the cup back to her.

"More," he demanded.

"Just one more, okay Barry?" Felicity said tentatively.

He stared a hole through her, waiting for her to fill the cup, which she then did as fast as she could. He was more careful not to spill it this time, making sure he drank every last drop. When he shakily held the cup of water to his lips, Iris noticed he was still missing part of his ring finger on his left hand. It hadn't grown back. Iris felt sick just looking at it.

When Barry held the empty cup out to Felicity again, she took it from him cautiously.

"More," he said to her, his voice hard and demanding.

He wasn't asking; he was _telling_ her.

"You should wait a little bit, Barry," Felicity told him gently, "Your stomach isn't used to it now. You could end up making yourself sick."

"Felicity," he said, "I _need_ more. _Now_."

"I'm sorry, Barry," she said brokenly.

She truly was.

For a moment, Barry looked like he was going to explode, but then suddenly, his face fell. He sighed and looked away from them, defeated.

"Barry…?" Iris said softly.

Barry didn't respond as he continued to look away from them. He curled up tighter into himself, taking deep breaths. None of them could imagine what this felt like for him—how many emotions he had battling within him. Barry's head snapped up when Caitlin entered the room.

"Why didn't anyone come get me?!" she asked angrily upon seeing Barry sitting up in bed.

"We didn't want to wake you," Felicity told her.

"You should have come to me right away," she argued, moving closer to Barry's bed.

Barry gasped within Caitlin taking only a few steps towards him. He scrambled away from her as far as he could, nearly falling out of bed. Caitlin paused where she stood, putting her hands up for Barry to see.

"It's okay, Barry. It's just me," she said softly.

Barry's breathing was ragged as stared at her in fear.

"Caitlin," Joe whispered to her, "Your coat."

Caitlin looked down at the white doctor's coat she was wearing. It looked just like the lab coats the scientists wore at the facility where Barry had been kept. Realizing her mistake, Caitlin quickly tore the coat off, and threw it in the corner of the room.

"I'm sorry, Barry," she said quickly, "I wasn't thinking."

Barry seemed to relax slightly, but he was still tense as he stared at her.

"You were hurting me," he said whispered brokenly to her, "You…you were breaking my bones."

"I know, Barry," she said remorsefully, "I had to rebreak them so that I could set them right. I didn't want to hurt you. I was trying to _help_ you."

Barry continued to stare suspiciously at her. He looked so hurt by what she had done, and it killed Caitlin to have him looking at her this way. Barry had always had complete trust in her, and now she had lost that trust.

Barry wouldn't let Caitlin look him over. She couldn't even get a set of vital signs from him. She agreed not to touch him as long as he at least kept the heart monitor wires attached to his chest. That way, she at least had a heart rate and EKG to look at for him.

"Barry, I could really use a blood pressure, too," she said timidly.

"No," he said immediately, shaking his head.

"What if I gave the cuff to you, and you put it on your own arm?" she suggested, "It's digital, so I won't have to touch you to get a reading."

He considered this for a moment before nodding hesitantly. Carefully, Caitlin slowly held the blood pressure cuff out to Barry, taking care not to scare him by moving too quickly. He took it from her, and she backed away immediately. Every time she got near his bed, Caitlin could see Barry's heartrate quicken on the monitor.

He wrapped the cuff carefully around his arm and pressed the button. He didn't look at the number on the screen, though. Instead, he watched all of them vigilantly, calculating their every movement. They were all aware of how on edge Barry was, so none of them stood too close to the bed or made any quick, sudden movements.

When the blood pressure monitor beeped, Barry tore it off his arm and tossed it to Caitlin quickly so she wouldn't have to come near him to grab it.

"Are you hungry, Barry?" Caitlin asked kindly.

She immediately felt very stupid for asking him this. Of course he was hungry! He looked like a skeleton with how thin he had become. His collar bones, chest bones, and ribs all protruded out in the worst way, and his limbs were reduced to twigs. Caitlin would probably have been able to wrap her tiny hands all the way around Barry's thigh if she tried, and the sweatpants he was wearing were way too large on him. All his muscles had atrophied, leaving him looking like a skeleton.

Barry's eyes were dark as he nodded at her in reply. Caitlin promptly exited the room to get something for Barry to eat.

The room fell silent after her departure. Barry continued to watch them all wearily, as if he expected one of them to attack him at any moment. Felicity coughed, clearing a tickle in her throat, and Barry jumped a mile.

"Sorry, Barry," she said hurriedly.

"It's fine," he muttered, embarrassed by how easily he startled, "I'm just having trouble…"

They all waited for him to continue, but he struggled to find the words.

"Trouble what, Barry?" Cisco asked.

Barry looked at him with weary eyes.

"Trouble adjusting to this," he said, "It still doesn't feel real to me."

"It _is_ real, Bar," Joe assured him, "You're safe now. It's over."

"It doesn't feel like it's over," Barry muttered.

As many times as they had told him he was safe, Barry couldn't bring himself to believe it. He still felt as if something terrible was about to happen to him. He still half expected to wake up to find that this had all been a dream. He couldn't allow himself to feel relieved because a part of him was still bracing himself for the next experiment.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the reappearance of Caitlin.

"Here, Barry," she said, holding out a small bowl of some sort of gray paste, "I know it's not very appetizing, but it should be really—"

Barry immediately snatched the bowl from her hands.

"—good for you," she finished, watching him with a pitying look on her face.

Barry had a hard time holding the spoon, taking it up awkwardly with his stiff fingers. He ate rapidly, as if he couldn't get the food into his body fast enough.

"Slowly, Barry," Caitlin coached him, "You need to eat it _slowly_."

Barry ignored her, though, finishing the small bowl of food within minutes.

"May I have some more, please?" he asked her desperately.

Caitlin sighed.

"I'm sorry. Not right away, Barry. It's not good for you to have too much too soon."

Barry sighed, having already anticipated her response. Caitlin looked up at Barry's heart monitor, and sure enough, his heartrate was already starting to increase exponentially—an early sign of refeeding syndrome. The shaking in Barry's hands seemed to get slightly worse.

"You should lay back, Barry," Caitlin told him worriedly, "You need to let your body adjust."

Barry reluctantly laid back against the pillows, but his anxiety seemed to worsen with the position.

"I can't do this," he said, sitting up again, "I can't lay flat like this."

"Here," Caitlin said understandingly.

She raised the head of the bed into a semi-sitting position. Barry laid back gratefully.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Caitlin eyed him nervously.

"What?" he whispered.

"Barry, I really need to look you over. I need to see that everything is healing correctly."

"It is," he clipped.

"I still need to check, Barry," she said nervously.

" _No_ ," he persisted, his eyes darkening.

"I'll make it quick," Caitlin assured him, "I won't touch you any more than I have to, okay?"

Barry looked like he was going to cry. Caitlin took a careful step closer to the bed. In one painfully slow movement, she reached toward one of the bandages on Barry's torso. Barry started shaking violently and looked like he was fighting the urge to either slide away from her or hit her.

Everyone in the room held their breath as Caitlin carefully pealed back the bandage to check the incision.

"Deep breaths, Barry," she told him, as she moved to the next one.

Barry looked like he was going to be sick.

"Stop," he demanded when she reached the third bandage.

Caitlin froze.

"I can't," he choked, "I—I need you to stop."

Caitlin pulled her hand away but still stood close to the bed. Barry had tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said brokenly, "It's just the touching. It's like their hands…they never stopped touching me…when I was there."

"I understand, Barry," she said soothingly, "I won't touch you again until you're ready."

After several moments had passed, Barry took a deep, shuttering breath, and then finally nodded for her to continue.

Caitlin had to stop two more times for Barry, but she managed to get through almost all his wounds. When she reached for the bandage over the center of his chest, however, it became too much for Barry.

Without any warning, his hand snapped up and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it painfully. Caitlin gasped in shock and tried to pull away. Joe rushed forward to help her, grabbing onto Barry's arm.

"Barry!" he shouted in alarm, "Let go! Let her go!"

Barry didn't even seem to hear him. He squeezed Caitlin's wrist harder, causing Caitlin to yell out in pain. Barry's face was contorted with purest loathing as he tenaciously maintained his grip.

"Barry! Barry, you need to let go!" Joe yelled, prying at Barry's fingers.

Barry made a sound halfway between a yell and a growl as he gripped Caitlin's wrist. His eyes were filled with adrenaline. To him, this was life and death. To the rest of them, Barry looked utterly insane. He gripped Caitlin's arm as hard as he could, and she cried out again.

Her second cry seemed to finally snap him out of it. Barry's eyes widened, and he released her with a gasp.

Caitlin scrambled away from him, backing up quickly into Cisco, who steadied her.

"Are you okay?" Cisco asked her.

"I'm fine," she breathed, gripping her injured wrist with her other hand.

She had tears in her eyes.

"Caitlin!" Barry cried, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, Barry," she assured him quickly through her tears, "I know you didn't mean to."

"I don't know what happened," Barry sobbed, tears welling in his own eyes, "I couldn't stop myself."

"Barry, it's alright," she assured, "I understand."

"I couldn't control myself," he said brokenly, "It just came over me, and I couldn't stop it. I thought…I thought you were…"

"I'm fine, Barry," Caitlin reassured him, "It's okay."

Caitlin's wrist was only minorly injured. All she had to do was wrap it up—an easy fix. What was much harder was the task of calming Barry down. He felt terrible for what he had done to her. No matter how many times they reassured him, Barry couldn't forgive himself for hurting her.

Caitlin knew Barry hadn't meant to hurt her. In that moment, he had thought he was protecting himself. After it happened, though, she was much more cautious around him. She felt guilty because a part of her was afraid of him now. She knew Barry would never hurt her, but right now, he wasn't Barry exactly. He wasn't himself right now, and they all had to be careful around him for their own safety, as well as his.

After that, Barry was never left in the room by himself. At the same time, however, no one person was ever allowed to be in the room alone with him either. He was too unpredictable, and they were always sure to have at least two people with him at all times.

Eventually, Barry's exhaustion won over, and he was able to fall asleep, but like before, he woke easily. Even when they were completely silent, Barry would wake up often. No matter what they did to try to calm him, Barry was a tightly woven bundle of nerves. Every sound scared him. Every movement they made had him suspicious. He couldn't calm down no matter what they did. If he continued to go on this way, Caitlin was worried they might have to sedate him. For now, she just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

Caitlin fumbled nervously with her clipboard as she waited on pins and needles for the pipeline doors to open. Her expression darkened when Dr. Holland's face came into view.

"You said you wanted to help Barry," Caitlin said stiffly to her, "I found a way you can do that."

Caitlin walked into the cell in which they were keeping Dr. Holland, without Barry's knowledge of course. They thought it best not to tell him they were keeping her here.

The other woman looked curiously at Caitlin. Caitlin handed her the stack of files in her hands.

"I want you to walk me through all of these," she said in a hard voice, "Explain every test, every procedure. I want to know everything you did to Barry."

Dr. Holland looked through the papers. It was the same stack of papers she had grabbed from the lab when they were making their escape.

"Did you watch the videos?" Dr. Holland whispered.

"What videos?" Caitlin asked seriously.

"The jump drives," Dr. Holland said, "They were on the jump drives."

"I haven't looked at them yet," Caitlin told her, "You…you _filmed_ it?"

Dr. Holland nodded.

"Mostly just the major procedures," she said, "…among other things. The general wanted us to keep a video record. Honestly, I think he just enjoyed watching them for himself. He truly is a sick man."

"Yet you worked for him," Caitlin snipped.

"I did," Dr. Holland said shamefully.

"So, I'm curious," Caitlin said coolly, "What made you suddenly grow a conscience?"

Dr. Holland looked down at the files Caitlin had handed her. There was a picture of Barry there, with ' _Subject 0227'_ written just beneath it.

"He did," she said quietly, still not looking up at Caitlin.

"Who?" Caitlin asked, confused.

"Barry," Dr. Holland whispered.

Caitlin glared at her. For some reason, it angered her just to hear Barry's name on this woman's lips.

"How is he?" Dr. Holland asked her then.

Caitlin fumed.

"You have no right to ask me that question," she snapped, "You have no right to even talk about him."

Dr. Holland hung her head in shame. Caitlin spoke again after a moment, her voice unsteady.

"He's struggling," she said, her voice wavering, "He's starting to heal physically, but whatever you people did to him has left him completely shattered as a person. You've tortured him, starved him, and dehumanized him in every way. Barry is never going to be the same again after everything you've done to him."

Dr. Holland looked up at her, and Caitlin was shocked to see actually tears in the woman's eyes.

"I'm sorry," she choked brokenly, "I'm so sorry."

To Caitlin, the words were meaningless. No amount of apologizing could undo what this woman had done to her friend.

"Come with me," Caitlin said stiffly, "You're going to sit down in my office with me and go through all this information."

Dr. Holland nodded, ready to help in any way she could.

"Just make sure Barry doesn't see you," Caitlin muttered to her as they walked towards the elevator, "The last thing we need is to further traumatize him."


	3. The Cup will Always be Empty

**The Cup will Always be Empty**

* * *

Caitlin had never cried so hard in her life. She felt like she could barely breathe as Dr. Holland explained each of the experiments to her. Dr. Holland hadn't even gotten through half of the information before Caitlin needed her to stop.

Caitlin suddenly grabbed the small wastebasket she kept next to her desk in her small office and expelled the contents of her stomach into it. She gagged again and again, tears still running down her face.

When she felt the other woman pull her hair back for her, Caitlin stilled.

"Take. Your hands. Off me," she gritted.

Dr. Holland let Caitlin's hair fall and moved back away from her.

"How could you do that?" Caitlin sobbed, "How could you do that to someone? To another human being?!"

Dr. Holland swallowed, her eyes swimming with guilt.

"I thought I was doing good," she said quietly, "I thought one man's suffering was a small price to pay for all the good we were doing."

She sighed heavily.

"I was wrong."

Caitlin just shook her head, dissatisfied with the other woman's reasoning.

"We haven't even gotten to the videos, yet," Caitlin said, "I don't think I can bear to watch them."

She stood up from her desk, looking down at Dr. Holland.

"I think it's time you go back in the cell," she said quietly, "I can't hear any more today."

Dr. Holland only nodded, willingly letting the other woman steer her from the room and back to the pipeline.

* * *

For the first few days after being rescued, Barry didn't speak much. He barely spoke at all, actually. He would say please and thank you when they gave him food and water, but other than that, he barely said more than a word here and there.

They tried to encourage him to sleep as much as possible while he was recovering, but Barry spent most of his hours lying awake in the medical bed, staring at the ceiling or the wall. When they tried to talk to him, he often didn't respond, and if he did, it was usually in terse, one-word replies.

They weren't sure if he was laying there reliving the events that had transpired over the last few weeks, or if he was simply numb, not allowing himself to feel or think about anything at all. Either way, the only word to describe Barry now was empty. He seemed void of all emotion, like a zombie as he laid in that bed.

After a few days, Caitlin started to do physical therapy with Barry. He wasn't able to get out of bed quite yet, but Caitlin did strength training exercises with him, using exercise bands and other therapy tools to help him regain his strength. Barry's muscles had atrophied severely, and he had a lot of work to do to build them back up to what they had been before. It was a very slow and frustrating process.

Barry was plagued by nightmares every night, and he often woke up sweating and screaming. It was difficult to talk him down from the dreams. How do you tell someone everything is fine when what they were dreaming was real? The nightmares weren't just make believe. To Barry, they had _actually_ happened.

Barry still hadn't spoken of his time at the facility. Caitlin had briefly filled them in with what she knew from what Dr. Holland had told her, but she knew Dr. Holland had left out a lot of the more gruesome details. Even Caitlin didn't have the heart to tell the others everything Dr. Holland had told her. She kept the worst of it to herself.

Caitlin was still too afraid to watch the videos. She felt like watching them would somehow be wrong. She felt like it would be crossing a line, invading Barry's privacy. If he wanted her to know about something, he would tell her about it when he was ready.

She would leave that decision up to him.

* * *

When Joe walked into Singh's office, the captain looked up at him and almost had a heart attack.

"Joe?!" Singh nearly shouted, standing up from his desk, "What the hell?! Where have you been?!"

Joe sighed and gestured for Singh to sit down, taking the seat across from him on the other side of the desk.

"That's kind of a long story…"

* * *

Barry let out a growl of frustration.

"You'll get it eventually, Barry," Caitlin said encouragingly.

Barry shot her a look.

"I want to get it _now_ ," he said in frustration, staring angrily at his hand.

He was trying to touch his thumb to each finger individually, one at a time, but he was having difficulties. His hand was shaking uncontrollably, and every time he was close to touching a finger to his thumb, his hand would spasm.

"Fine motor movements can be difficult to regain," Caitlin told him, "You just need to give yourself more time."

Barry let out another yell of frustration when his hand spasmed again.

"Why don't you take a break, Barry?" Felicity asked him, "You're getting frustrated."

"You think?" Barry snapped.

He let his hand fall back down onto the mattress, giving up.

"I'm sorry," he sighed.

"Don't be," Felicity told him, "You have every right to be upset. I know it's hard."

Barry nodded and took a deep breath.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Barry looked at her blankly.

"Right," she said, "Sorry."

Barry had been recovering for four days now, and his lack of communication was starting to worry them. They were trying to get him to open up, to talk about his experience, but Barry wasn't responding well to their prying.

"When can I go home?" Barry asked desperately.

"You'll go home soon, Barry," Caitlin assured him, "But you have quite a bit of physical therapy to get through before that happens."

"I can't stand this room," Barry said, looking around the medical room, "It's so…clean and…"

"It reminds you of the lab," Iris said, not really a question, but a statement.

Barry nodded.

"That lab…" he started to say.

They all listened intently, waiting for him to continue.

"Never mind," he whispered.

"What, Barry?" Iris asked him, "You can talk to us. What about the lab?"

"Never mind," he said again, "I really don't want to talk about it."

"I think you _do_ , Bar," Iris pressed, "I think you need to, but you're scared to."

Barry gave her a nervous look. He stared at his hands as he thought about it. Out of habit, he rubbed one hand over the brand on his arm, tracing the numbers on his skin with his fingers. His face darkened.

"One thing has been really bothering me," he said quietly.

"What, Bar?" Iris asked intently, "What is it?"

He looked up at her with dark eyes. His voice was filled with hatred when he spoke.

"What happened to them? To the scientists?"

They all exchanged nervous looks, not knowing what to tell him. Cisco decided on the truth.

"We don't really know, man," he said, "They disappeared."

"You mean they got away," Barry seethed.

"Barry…" Caitlin said sadly.

Barry started to breathe heavily, trying to breathe through his anger.

"They can't just walk away," Barry seethed, "They can't be allowed to just get away with it."

"Barry, I know it's hard," Iris said to him, "And trust me, I want them to see justice, too, but I think it would be better for you if you just let it go for now. I think you should focus on yourself right now and on moving on with your life."

This was the wrong thing to say. Barry glared at her, his eyes completely consumed by rage and loathing.

"Let it go?" he said in a dangerous voice, "Iris, do you have any idea what those people did to me?"

"I'm sorry, Barry," Iris said, "I know they put you through hell…"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" Barry screamed, causing them all to jump, "NONE OF YOU! YOU HAVE NO IDEA!"

"Barry…" Caitlin said.

"No!" he yelled, "I don't care what that fucking file tells you! Those are just words on paper! Until you've seen it, until you've lived through it, you can't ever fully understand it!"

"Then help us to," Felicity said calmly to him, "Talk to us, Barry."

Barry took several deep breaths.

"We have to find them," he said quietly, "Please, Felicity. You have to find them for me."

"Barry, I…"

"Please," he begged, "They can't get away with this. Felicity, please. _Find them_."

"Okay," Felicity agreed, "I'll try."

"Thank you," Barry sighed, "Felicity, thank you."

They all were heartbroken to see him this way. This was the most Barry had spoken in days, and it killed them to see him so consumed with hatred and rage. They wanted to help him heal, but Barry's mind was so preoccupied with vengeance, he couldn't focus on anything else. His emotions were slowly starting to come back to him.

The first of them being anger.

* * *

"So, you're telling me that _Barry_ is the Flash?!" Singh said disbelievingly.

He stared at Joe with his mouth open, trying to wrap his head around it. Joe simply nodded.

"And he has been this _entire time_?!"

Joe nodded again.

"And for the past nine weeks, you all have been held captive by the United States government?!"

"Not the government, just General Eiling," Joe corrected, "I have a feeling he was acting outside his jurisdiction."

"Wait, so what exactly did he want from you?" the captain asked, trying to wrap his head around all of this.

"It's not what he wanted from _me_ ," Joe explained, "It's what he wanted from Barry. The rest of us were just there to be used as leverage."

"What did he want from Barry?" Singh asked curiously.

Joe's expression darkened.

"He wanted to find out how they can harness his abilities for military use," he said slowly, "To figure out how his powers worked. They…"

"They experimented on him?" Singh asked, horrified.

Joe nodded sadly. Singh swallowed as he processed this information.

"Is he…Is he okay?" the captain asked.

"He _will_ be," Joe sighed, "We were there for a long time, though. Barry's been through a lot. He's…not doing too well right now."

"Well, tell him he can take as much time off as he needs," Singh said understandingly, "And the same goes for you, too."

"Thank you, David," Joe said.

He gave the captain an uneasy look then.

"What are you going to tell the rest of the force?"

"I'll think of something," Singh said dismissively, "Don't worry about that. You just focus on your family right now, Joe."

Joe thanked the captain again, and after he had left the office, he wasted no time getting back to STAR Labs—back to Barry.

* * *

"Barry?" Iris said, sitting down next to the bed.

He didn't look at her. He just stared at the wall, curled up on his side facing the other direction. She could only see the side of his face, but she knew he was awake.

"Barry, can you talk to me please?" she asked desperately.

"What do you want me to say, Iris?" he asked her emotionlessly.

It was now his seventh day after being freed, and Barry hadn't gotten any better. He was still an empty shell of himself.

"Would it help you to talk about it?" she asked, "Maybe if you just told me about it…"

"What's to tell?" Barry asked bitterly, "What do you want me to tell you, Iris? That it sucked? That it was terrible? That I spent every day wishing I was dead? How is telling you all that going to help me?"

Iris felt her eyes fill with tears.

"Barry," she sniffled, reaching for his arm.

"Don't," he said flatly without looking at her.

She pulled her hand away. Barry still didn't like to be touched. After a full week of being out of the facility, he still didn't allow anyone to touch him. They just wanted to comfort him, but it seemed Barry didn't want to be touched by another person ever again, no matter how gentle and loving they were with their touches.

"How can I help you, Barry?" Iris choked, "What do you need?"

Barry turned gingerly onto his back, slow in his movements considering how sore he still was from his injuries. He turned his head to look at her.

"I don't know," he said softly, "I don't know what I need, Iris. I just…I can't…"

"You can't what, Barry?" she pressed.

Barry just shook his head, his jaw set.

"I can't, Iris. I just…can't. I can't talk about this."

"Barry…"

"I'm just not ready yet, okay? I don't want to think about it or tell you about it."

"I understand, Barry," she said in a strained voice, "I just want you to know that you _can_ talk about it. When you're ready. I'm here whenever you want to talk."

Barry nodded gratefully at her, his face still emotionless.

"You're making good progress, Bar," she said with a water smile, "You did really good today. You were walking."

"I fell," Barry said flatly.

"Still," Iris persisted, "It's progress."

She smiled at him, but Barry didn't smile back. Just then Joe entered the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked her immediately.

"What do you mean?" Iris asked, confused.

"Why are you in here alone with him?" Joe asked intensely, stepping forward to pull her away from the bed, away from Barry.

"Dad, it's fine. Cisco just had to step out to take a phone call," she explained.

"And so you thought it would be a good idea then to go and sit right next to the bed?!"

"Dad."

"No, Iris! What if he had done something? What if he had hurt you? There wouldn't have been anyone here to protect you."

"Dad!" Iris said loudly, "Maybe we should be having this conversation _someplace else_?"

She looked pointedly over to where Barry was laying, watching them and listening to their argument with a slightly hurt expression on his face. Joe looked over at Barry as if just realizing he was there.

"Oh, Bar. I…I'm so sorry," Joe said sincerely to him, "I didn't mean…"

"It's fine, Joe," Barry said blankly, "I understand."

"No, Bar, really," Joe said, "I know you wouldn't hurt her. It's just…"

"…you never know," Barry said flatly.

Joe moved closer to him.

"I'm just being careful, Bar," he explained desperately.

Barry nodded at him.

"I'm damaged now," he said blankly.

"No, Barry," Iris said firmly, "You've just been through a lot. You're going to be okay, though. You're going to get better."

Barry turned back onto his side, facing away from them again.

"Barry," Joe said desperately, but Barry didn't respond.

Joe felt like shit. Here he had been trying for days to support Barry and get him to open up, and now in just one moment, he had further convinced him that he was damaged beyond repair. Barry had been making progress with his physical recovery, but emotionally, he was just retreating further into himself.

* * *

Felicity left to go back to Star City halfway through Barry's second week of recovery. She didn't want to leave him, but her team needed her, and she was forced to leave Central City to go where she was needed most.

Barry worked hard with his physical therapy. It was really all he _could_ do. Laying in bed doing nothing all day would drive him insane, so he kept busy. He did whatever little exercises he could to regain his strength, and he practiced regaining control of his hands.

They were still very shaky. Caitlin said it was both because his fingers had been broken so many times and because of the brain and nerve damage that had been done to him. She was confident that with time, though, he would regain full use of his nine remaining fingers.

Barry tried not to let his frustration get the best of him. In fact, he continued to show very little emotion at all. He hadn't shed a single tear since that first night after being rescued. They all knew he was numbing himself. He wasn't allowing himself to feel anything, and he was keeping busy on purpose, using his physical therapy as a crutch to distract himself so he wouldn't think about the terrible memories that plagued his dreams every night.

At least they trusted him to be alone now. They didn't stick with the two people in the room at all times rule anymore. Barry hadn't shown any signs of wanting to hurt any of them or himself. He was perfectly fine, as long as they didn't touch him or press him too much.

"Barry, I'm glad to see you up and about, but maybe you should take it easy," Caitlin said when Barry walked stiffly into the cortex using his cane.

"I'm good," he said, making his way over to the desk to sit in the chair farthest from her, catching his breath.

"You didn't get much sleep last night," Caitlin persisted, "You should probably try to rest."

"Thanks for your concern, Caitlin," Barry breathed, "But I know my limits."

He rose from his chair again, even though he was still winded. He seemed to have only paused there to rest briefly, but now he continued his way across the room.

"Where are you going, Barry?" Caitlin asked him nervously, turning in her chair to follow his movements with her eyes.

"Nowhere," he muttered, "I'm just walking."

Caitlin watched him suspiciously as he disappeared into the STAR Labs kitchen. She wasn't sure if she should follow him or not. She didn't want to set him off by making him feel like he was being babysat, but at the same time, it made her nervous to have him out of her sight when he was up and walking around.

Caitlin stood up and walked over to the doorway Barry had just disappeared through. She entered the kitchen cautiously, peaking her head inside to see what he was doing. She let out a heavy sigh when she saw him. Barry was drinking heavily from a STAR Labs mug, draining it in seconds. He held it under the running faucet to refill it with water before bringing it back to his lips again.

"Barry," Caitlin said softly, "What did I tell you about the water?"

"It's just a couple glasses," Barry replied, refilling the mug again.

"You made yourself sick yesterday doing this, Bar," she sighed, "I can't let you do that to yourself again."

"Just one more cup," he insisted, taking a few gulps from the mug, "After this one, I mean."

Caitlin surveyed him worriedly, but then sighed.

"Fine," she said, "One more. That's it, though."

After having practically chugged the first three cups of water, Barry savored the last one with Caitlin watching.

"Barrrry," she growled when he went to refill it again.

"It's just one to take back to my room with me," he said.

Caitlin wanted to argue, but she thought better of it. It wasn't worth getting in a fight with Barry over one extra cup of water.

She knew he was just using it as a coping mechanism. Water made him feel safe in a way his loved ones now couldn't. Personal connections weren't a comfort to him like they used to be. In fact, they made him uncomfortable. He just didn't trust people now. The only thing that seemed to make him feel better was having water nearby.

Caitlin followed him as he slowly made his way back to his room. She was glad he was walking now, but he was still so unsteady, and it made her nervous as he shuffled his way back towards the med bay, leaning heavily on the cane he used for support. His legs were so thin and feeble looking, it was hard to believe they could bear any weight at all. As she walked behind him, Caitlin couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was grimacing slightly with each step he took.

When Barry was halfway through the cortex, he suddenly stopped walking and turned to look at her.

"I don't mind if you walk with me, but could you please walk in front of me or next to me where I can see you?" he asked her nervously.

"Yeah," she answered immediately, moving quickly to stand to the side of him, "Sorry, Barry. I forgot."

"It's okay," he mumbled, starting to walk again.

She had forgotten. Barry didn't ever like to have anyone behind him, or in any place where he couldn't see them. It made him nervous to have someone near him whom he couldn't watch closely.

When they reached the doorway to his room, Barry suddenly stumbled slightly. Without thinking, Caitlin instinctively darted a hand out to grab his arm and steady him. Barry gasped and pulled away from her instantly, leaning back against the doorframe. He dropped his mug, which then shattered when it made contact with the floor.

"Sorry, Barry! Sorry!" Caitlin apologized instantly, stepping away from him and pulling her arms back.

He breathed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped the doorframe tightly. Caitlin took another step back from him to give him more space.

"Why?!" he gasped, his eyes still squeezed shut, "Why would you _lunge_ at me like that?!"

"I'm so sorry, Barry," she said sincerely, "I thought you were going to fall. I was just trying to steady you."

Barry looked like he was going to be sick. She hadn't meant to, but Caitlin had really scared him. He had gotten slightly better about being touched—when he had warning and permitted it—but her quick, sudden movement towards him had taken him by surprise, and he found himself suddenly consumed by fear. He gripped the doorframe tightly, breathing in and out as he tried to calm himself down. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Caitlin kept her hands up in front of her where he could see them, and she was eyeing him nervously.

"I'm good," he said, carefully letting go of the doorframe, "Sorry about the mug."

"Are you sure you're okay, Barry?" Caitlin asked in concern.

He was starting to look a little green.

"I'm fine," he said, "I'm just going to get back to bed."

With that, he started moving again, closing the short remaining distance between the doorway and his bed. He sighed as he laid back against the soft pillows. He still couldn't believe how amazing a pillow could feel against his head. Caitlin continued to survey him with worried eyes. His hands were still badly shaking.

"I'll clean that up in a bit," Barry said, looking at the shattered mug in the doorway, "I just need to rest for a minute."

"Don't worry about it, Barry," Caitlin said, "I've got it."

She stooped down, picking up the pieces. As Barry watched her pick up the sad shards of the broken mug, he started to feel miserable. Something about the way the mug had been completely intact one minute and completely shattered the next upset him. It could never be put back together again. You could spend hours gluing the pieces back together. You could make it look whole again, but it would never hold anything. Everything poured into it would leak out, and the sad cup would always be empty. The cracks would always be there, and the mug would never be truly whole again.

Some things just can never be fixed.


	4. The Demons that Follow you Home

**The Demons that Follow you Home**

* * *

The sun was just starting to set when Joe and Iris pulled up to STAR Labs. Iris immediately made to exit the vehicle as soon as it had come to a halt.

"Hang on a minute, Iris," Joe stopped her, "I just wanted to say something."

"Dad, I haven't seen Barry all day," she said irritably, "I'm anxious to get inside to see him."

"Iris, listen to me," Joe said seriously, "I want you to be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm just as happy as you are that Barry's coming home tonight, but we need to be cautious. I just want to know you're going to be careful if you're ever alone with him at the house."

"Don't be ridiculous, dad," Iris said, "Barry isn't dangerous. He's not going to hurt me. He's doing a lot better now."

"I don't want to believe he's dangerous either, baby girl, but that doesn't change the fact that he _might_ be. It wasn't that long ago he hurt Caitlin, and it would be foolish of us to assume that the same thing can't happen again."

"He couldn't help it that time," Iris said defensively, "He was still adjusting."

"I'm not blaming him for it," Joe assured her, "I don't blame him for being the way is, after everything he's been through. I'm so happy that he's coming home, Iris. I just don't want our happiness to cloud our judgement. We need to keep in mind that Barry's still not himself. He has a lot of pent up emotions right now that he still isn't dealing with, and we need to be ready in case he snaps."

"What exactly is it you think Barry might do?" Iris asked quietly.

"Hopefully nothing," Joe said, "But I always prepare for the worst. Iris, just promise you'll be careful with him around."

"Dad, I—"

" _Promise me_."

Iris's eyes were watering as she looked at her father.

"I promise," she said quietly.

"Good," he said, and then he smiled, "Let's take Barry home."

She grinned at him and then exited the car. When they got off the elevator, they still had smiles on their faces. They walked into the cortex to find Caitlin fussing over Barry.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend just one more night here, Barry?" she was asking him, "You could always go home first thing in the morning."

"I'm sure," Barry said firmly, "I want to go home, Caitlin."

"Okay, I won't keep you hostage any longer then," she sighed, "But remember what I said about your speed. Just because it's back, it doesn't mean you should be using it. Give yourself more time before you start running around."

"Caitlin," Barry said irritably, "I can barely walk. I don't think I'll be running around Central City any time soon."

Caitlin nodded, somewhat satisfied.

"Ready, Bar?" Joe asked him, smiling enthusiastically.

"More than ready," Barry answered seriously.

With the aid of his cane, he crossed the room and headed towards the elevator with Iris. Joe lingered back.

"Here, Joe," Caitlin said quietly, stealthily handing him a capped syringe, "I have what you asked for. It should knock him out even with his powers. Please only use it if you absolutely have to, though."

"Thanks, Caitlin," Joe said, pocketing the syringe, "I don't plan to ever use it, but it makes me feel better to have it just in case."

She nodded seriously at him, and then Joe turned to join the others on the elevator.

It was just starting to sprinkle outside, the sun having just gone down. It wasn't very dark just yet, and small remnants of light were still peeking out from just over the horizon, making the sky appear pink.

Barry paused at the glass doors, looking outside with a strange expression on his face. With a jolt, Iris and Joe both realized that this would be Barry's first time going outside in months. His pause was brief, however, and soon Barry was quickly pushing the door open to step outside.

He was hit by a wave of the fresh outside air, and for the first time in a long time, Barry felt like he could finally breathe. He didn't feel the weight of everything that had happened crushing down on him. He didn't feel smothered and suffocated by the confines of walls or barriers. He reveled in the openness. He paused where he stood, tilting his head up towards the sky, closing his eyes as he felt the light mist of rain fall on his face and the light breeze play at his hair. For the first time since being rescued, Barry felt completely free. For just a moment, Barry actually felt safe.

The next thing he knew, he felt hot tears sliding down his face, and something between a laugh and a sob escaped his lips. Barry kept his eyes closed, letting himself bask in the pure joy and relief of finally, _finally_ being outside.

Iris and Joe stood there, watching Barry's reaction with curiosity. Tears sprang to both of their eyes when they saw that Barry was crying. He was finally shedding tears. He looked so peaceful, yet at the same time, a million different emotions were crossing his features. Sorrow, joy, pain, euphoria, relief, loss. Everything seemed to be displayed on Barry's face all at once, and they couldn't even imagine what he was thinking and feeling in this moment.

When Barry finally opened his eyes and looked at them, he wiped his face and took another step towards the car.

"Let's go home," he said quietly.

* * *

When they walked through the front door of the house, Barry held his breath. He felt like he was dreaming as he crossed the threshold. It just didn't feel like it was possible that he was back here. It was a place he had thought he would never see again.

He lingered by the front door. For some reason, he was strangely afraid to go further into the house. It was almost as if, if he fully entered the house, it would all suddenly disappear. He would wake up on that table again, it all having been just a cruel dream like always. He had dreamed of being home so many times, and now that he finally was, he almost couldn't accept that it was actually real. Now that he was finally home, he was afraid to really relax and let himself enjoy it for fear of it all being ripped away from him again.

"Are you hungry, Barry?" Joe asked, "I made your favorite. Lasagna. No cheese of course. Caitlin said you still can't have any dairy yet, but it should still be good…"

Normally Joe had always made lasagna as a parting meal. Like when Barry was about to leave for college or when he was about to go to Earth 2. Now it was a homecoming meal, one to celebrate Barry's return.

Barry didn't answer Joe. Instead, he slowly walked further into the living room, taking in every square inch of the room, as if he expected something to be different. It had been so long, like it was in another lifetime he had lived here. It was exactly as he remembered it, but at the same time it felt different. It wasn't the house that was different now, though. It was him. He wasn't the same person who had lived here before. The house was like a stranger to him, the same way that he was now a stranger to himself. He ran his hand along the mantelpiece above the fireplace and looked at the pictures that were there.

Smiling photos of him, Joe, and Iris glared back at him. He stared at them for only a moment before turning his head away, unable to look at them. He couldn't stand to see the glaring images of who he used to be. It was like they were mocking him.

Iris and Joe silently watched Barry take in the living room, wondering what he was thinking. This had to be hard for him, being back here. It had felt weird to them too when they had first come home on that first night. It had felt too normal for them. They couldn't imagine how strange it must feel for Barry now. It had to be so much worse for him, considering all he had been through.

"Lasagna sounds nice," Barry finally said in a quiet voice.

Joe nodded at him and walked into the kitchen. Barry was about to follow when Iris stopped him.

"Barry, are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

She bit her lip. Stupid question. Of course, he wasn't okay.

Barry nodded anyways, not quite looking her in the eyes. He evasively turned away from her and followed Joe into the kitchen.

He muttered a quiet "thank you" when Joe set the plate of food down in front of him. Joe had cut it into nice, bitesize pieces for him so it would be easier to eat. Barry's hand shook when he reached for his fork, his fingers wrapping around it awkwardly. It immediately slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a clatter. Barry glared at it angrily for a moment before bending in his chair to reach for it.

"Barry, I've got it," Iris said, stooping to grab the fork.

She walked over behind the kitchen counter to grab a new one for him.

"Here," she said, slowly and carefully taking his hand to help him.

He visibly shuddered at the touch, but he didn't pull his hand away. She placed the fork in his palm and curled his fingers around it. It was an awkward way to eat, but it was the only way Barry could maintain his grasp on the utensil.

"Thanks," he said in barely more than a whisper.

He ate silently, not looking at either of them. They tried not to watch him too much, knowing Barry hated it when he was being analyzed, but they couldn't keep their eyes from glancing at him anyways.

He was still so thin, despite having gained a little bit of weight back. His cheeks were gaunt and hollow, and his lips were pale and chapped. Even with his clothes on, anyone who looked at Barry could tell he was skeletal underneath them. All his clothes hung loose on him now, and above the neckline of his shirt you could still see his chest bones and collar bones jutting out. The sight made Joe want to scoop the entire tray of lasagna onto Barry's plate.

Joe purposely waited until Barry had eaten half his food before setting a glass of water in front of him. He knew if he had given it to him earlier, Barry would have filled up on the water instead of eating what was on his plate. Barry drained the glass in seconds. He didn't ask for more, though, knowing what Joe's answer would be.

When Barry finished eating and was given another glass of water, Iris turned to him.

"You look exhausted," she said, "You should probably go to bed."

Barry just shook his head, setting down the now empty glass. It was only eight o'clock.

"Okay, so what do you want to do, Bar?" she asked gently.

He shrugged, looking down at his shaky hands that were resting on the table.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" she asked him, "Unwind for a bit?"

Barry nodded hesitantly. Iris got up from the table and went into the living room. Barry followed stiffly, trying not to limp too much as he leaned on his cane. Walking was always harder for him when he was tired.

He slowly lowered himself down onto the couch as Iris pulled up Netflix on the TV.

"What do you want to watch?" she asked him.

She looked at him and saw that he was shaking.

"Barry?" she said with worry, "What's wrong?"

"I—I'm f-freezing," he said weakly.

Iris got up from the couch and walked over to the corner of the room where they kept all their blankets. She grabbed a couple for him and covered him up.

"Can I have a few more?" he asked her shyly.

"Of course, Bar," she said, grabbing several more blankets and piling them on top of him, "Better?"

He nodded.

"Thank you," Barry mumbled, blushing slightly.

"So what do you want to watch?" she asked him again as she sat back down, taking care not to sit too close to him on the couch so as not to make him uncomfortable or anxious.

Barry shrugged.

"Just pick something," he whispered.

Iris browsed through the available shows and movies. Should she pick a comedy? He clearly wasn't in the laughing mood, but maybe a comedy would cheer him up. Or maybe a documentary? Barry had always loved science documentaries, and they usually held his attention. She selected the first one she saw, and the film started to play.

Joe walked in, his cell phone in hand.

"I just got a call from work," he said, "Something came up, and they need me to go in for a bit."

He looked nervously at the two of them on the couch. He looked pointedly at Iris.

"Are you going to be okay here?" he asked her anxiously.

She nodded.

"We'll be fine, dad," she insisted, but a moment later she felt her dad slip something into her hand.

It was a syringe.

"Just in case," he whispered to her.

Iris gave him a shocked look and quickly hid the syringe under a pillow so Barry wouldn't see it. She gave her dad an irritated look. She would _not_ be using that on Barry.

Joe seemed satisfied, though, and he gave his daughter a quick kiss on the top of her head before leaving out the front door. Iris took a second or two to shake off the tense moment before resuming the movie.

Barry tried to watch the documentary. It was one he had been meaning to watch actually. It had been saved in his watch list a long time ago, which was why, he assumed, Iris had picked it. His mind kept drifting to other things, though. Even with the blankets on top of him, Barry still felt cold. He always felt cold now, as if he was still lying on that cold, metal table in that freezing room.

He still felt phantom pains all over his body every time he thought of the things that had been done to him. He thought about the scientists who had violated him in so many ways. He would never forget their voices or their faces. Their faces all swam before his eyes, each one appearing more vivid in his memories than the last.

There was one face that stood out to him more, though, and was brought to the forefront of his mind the most. He didn't know why _her_ face was more pronounced in his memories. Maybe it was because she had been the director of the experiments. Or maybe it was because he felt a more personal hatred for her than he did the rest.

"Barry?" Iris asked suddenly.

He blinked away the images in his mind and turned to look at her. He had been staring blankly at the TV screen, and he hadn't even noticed it when she had paused the documentary. He had been staring at an unmoving screen.

"Barry, you should probably go to bed," Iris suggested gently, "You look so tired."

"I can't," he said quietly.

"What do you mean 'you can't?'" Iris asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I—I just can't," Barry answered, "I don't want to sleep."

"Why, Barry?" Iris asked gently.

Barry just shook his head and looked away from her.

"Nightmares?" she guessed.

Barry nodded slowly.

"And…" he started, "And, I don't want to be…"

"You don't want to be what, Bar?" she pressed when he didn't continue.

"I don't want to be woken up," he said quietly.

When she gave him a confused look, he elaborated.

"When I was there…I was…afraid to sleep."

He sighed, having a hard time finding the words to explain it.

"When I fell asleep…I was always woken up in the worst ways. They would…"

Barry swallowed and shook his head. He sighed heavily.

"I just don't want to sleep right now."

"Barry, no one is going to hurt you now," Iris assured him desperately, "We're not going to let any more terrible things happen to you."

Barry wanted so badly to believe her. He wanted so badly to believe he was safe, but he couldn't. Logically, he could, but emotionally, he felt very differently. Although he was finally beginning to accept that this was real, that he wasn't dreaming and that they really had been rescued that night, he still couldn't make himself _feel_ safe. He had now come to always expect the worst from life—from people.

"Why don't we try going to bed now?" Iris said gently, "Okay, Bar?"

Barry nodded unsurely. Iris stood, and she wanted to help Barry stand up from the couch, but she knew it was always better not to touch him if unnecessary, so she instead watched him struggle to stand up on his own.

Barry walked all the way to foot of the stairs and then paused, eyeing them wearily. He wasn't the greatest with stairs just yet, but he was determined to be able to do everything the way he used to, so he pushed himself, taking the first step up. If Iris had noticed his hesitation, she didn't say anything. She just walked alongside Barry, taking note of how slowly he was moving up the stairs.

A quarter of the way up, Barry stumbled, going to his hands and knees on the steps in front of him. Iris placed a hand on his shoulder in shock but pulled it back immediately.

"Are you okay, Barry?" she asked worriedly, stooping down next to him.

"I'm fine," he breathed, "I just didn't pick my feet up enough. I'm good."

He rose again, and without another word, he climbed the rest of the stairs.

Barry felt himself consumed with sorrow and disappointment when he walked into his bedroom. He didn't know why, but he had expected the room to feel warmer, more secure. It had always been _his_ space, and he thought going back to it would give him a sense of solitude and security.

It didn't.

The room looked just as menacing to him as the rest of the world now did, like there were demons lurking in every corner.

Iris was going to stand outside the door of his room so that Barry could change into pajamas, but she stopped closing the door when she saw the look he was giving her.

"What's wrong, Barry?" she asked him, stepping back into the room.

He was standing there uncomfortably, wringing his hands.

"I, uh, kind of need you to stay," he said quietly, looking down, "I…I need help."

His cheeks reddened, and he wouldn't look her in the eye.

"It's just the buttons," he explained, "M-my hands…"

"I can help you, Barry," Iris said kindly, "Sorry, I didn't realize."

She stepped forward to help him with his shirt buttons, and then moved to the button and zipper on his jeans. She helped him to undress, trying not to touch him too much in the process. Barry shuddered unpleasantly every time her hands accidentally brushed up against his skin.

She wondered sadly if he would ever be comfortable with physical contact again. Of course, he had to know that she would never do anything to hurt him, so she had a hard time understanding why he feared her touch so much. Whatever those doctors had done to him, it had really messed him up, and every time Barry shuddered repulsively under her touch, Iris swelled with anger towards them for making him this way. For making him so fearful of other people—fearful of her.

Iris was shocked every time she saw how thin he had become. When Barry leaned down to take his jeans off, Iris could see his entire spine and his shoulder blades and ribs along his back. His skin was covered in scars. He probably had more scars than the Arrow now. Some of them made her sick just to look at, each one telling its own story of something horrific that had been done to him.

These were just the scars that stuck. Iris knew that what she could see on him now was only a very small fraction of what had actually been done to him. There had been a lot more experiments that were just as painful but hadn't left a lasting mark.

Once Barry was stripped down to just his boxers, Iris could see he was clearly very uncomfortable. It wasn't just in a self-conscious sort of way, though. He was scared. His entire body trembled and his eyes darted around the room, something he did when he was feeling unsafe.

Iris quickly grabbed the plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants that she had set out for Barry and helped him get into them. Barry's movements as he got dressed were urgent— _frantic_ even. He seemed to calm down significantly once he was dressed and feeling less exposed. He breathed a little easier when he had clothes on.

They were huge on him. Barry was swimming in the baggy T-shirt that had once fit him perfectly. The sweatpants hung loose on his hips even after Iris had tightened the drawstring as much as she possibly could. It always broke her heart whenever she noticed how emaciated the experiments had left him. His extreme weight loss was one of the most visible and noticeable signs of abuse and neglect that Barry had been through.

Like always, Barry didn't want to lay flat while he slept. He propped up enough pillows behind him so he was practically sitting up straight in bed.

"Are you sure you want to sleep like that, Bar?" Iris asked him as she piled plenty of blankets on top of him, "It doesn't look very comfortable—or good for your neck."

"I'm sure," he said quietly, leaning back against the pillows, "Thanks, Iris."

When Iris made to turn the light off, Barry spoke again.

"Leave it on please," he said urgently, "I need to see everything."

Iris gave him a sad look before saying, "Okay, Barry."

"Thank you," he said gratefully, "Goodnight, Iris."

"Goodnight, Barry."

Once Iris was in her own room with the door closed, she felt the tears finally sliding down her face. She didn't know why, but she had thought bringing Barry home would make everything better. For some reason she thought he would magically be her Barry again, and it would be as if those nine weeks had never happened. She was wrong. His demons had followed him here. Barry was still broken.

Barry still had yet to break down. He had cried when he had stepped outside earlier, but he still hadn't really allowed himself to feel everything he was bottling up inside. The only emotion he ever seemed able to display now was fear, and occasionally anger, but mostly just fear.

It killed Iris to see him this way. Barry may not be crying or rocking in the fetal position right now, but Iris was still upset with the things she saw. It was the little things. The way he watched her every movement out of the corners of his eyes. The way he seemed to lean away from her when she got too close. The way he jumped violently at the smallest noises and held his breath if someone was behind him or someplace he couldn't see.

It was clear Barry was extremely deprived of sleep. He never got more than a few hours of rest in a single night, and it had long caught up to him. They all thought that if he could maybe just get a decent amount of sleep, he might start to think a bit clearer and feel better.

When Iris was dressed and ready for bed, she quietly approached Barry's room and peeked inside through the open door. Sure enough, he was still in that semi-sitting position in bed, his eyes still wide open. He had a sad, thoughtful look on his face as he stared at the ceiling. Iris thought about going in and trying to talk to him, but then she thought better of it. She had already been trying to talk to him all week, but she hadn't been able to get him to open up to her. Now didn't seem like the best time to press him further. She thought it best to just give him space and let him try to fall asleep on his own.

It took Iris a long time to fall asleep herself. She was devastated over what Barry was going through. She felt like she had lost him. He was lost, and he couldn't find his way back to her. The person lying in the bedroom next to her was not Barry. She still hadn't lost hope though that Barry was in there somewhere.


	5. The Stranger in the Mirror

**The Stranger in the Mirror**

* * *

When Joe finally got home around one, the first thing he did was check on Barry. He found the door to Barry's room to be half open, and he looked inside to see that the dim lamp on Barry's bedside table was still on. More than that, Barry's eyes were wide open as he laid in bed. Really, he was more like sitting with the amount of pillows he had propped up behind him. He was clearly deep in thought, and it didn't take a genius to guess what Barry was thinking about.

Joe wasn't sure if he should go in and talk to him or not. Barry really hated to be pressed about his feelings, and Joe didn't want to upset him when they had finally just taken him home. He and Barry were probably both too exhausted to get into a heavy conversation or an argument right now. With a bad feeling in his stomach Joe continued down the hallway to his own bedroom, where he, himself, didn't get much sleep.

He and Iris had both thought they would all sleep easier once Barry was home, but they quickly found that to be untrue. For Barry, it didn't matter where he was. No matter where he happened to be, he couldn't escape the ugly memories that were trapped inside his head. They followed him wherever he went.

Around five, Barry gave up on the prospect of sleep entirely. He climbed out of bed and limped over to sit at his desk, looking at all the CSI papers he had left there months ago. Everything was where he had left it for the most part, but some things looked as though they had been moved. Iris had mentioned to him that the police had searched the house, so it didn't surprise him that they had gone through his paperwork in search for clues about their whereabouts.

It was a good thing he didn't keep anything Flash-related at home. The last thing he needed was for the captain to find out about his identity. It had been three weeks now since he had been rescued, and he still had yet to call his boss. Joe had returned to work a few days ago, and he told Barry he had talked to Singh, who said he could take all the time he needed. Barry didn't know what story Joe had told the captain, but he found he didn't really care. He didn't care about anything anymore.

Barry tried to distract himself and occupy his mind by absently reading through the reports, and it was here, still sitting at his desk, that Joe found him an hour later. He tried to insist that Barry go back to bed, but Barry told him it would be pointless.

Barry decided to start his day off by taking a shower. He had bathed so many times since he had left that facility, yet he still felt unclean. He felt like if he could just scrub hard enough, he could wash their hands off him. He could wash away all of the things that had been done to him.

He had the water as hot as it would go, not even caring if it was scalding his skin. He still couldn't believe how amazing a hot shower could feel. He had grown almost used to being cold all the time, and he had become so accustomed to being simply sprayed down with icy water when he needed to be cleaned off. Now, with the water gently falling on him, Barry thought to himself that he would never again take for granted the bliss and the luxury that was a hot shower.

He probably would have taken his time and enjoyed the shower more if he didn't have Joe sitting in the bathroom with him on the other side of the curtain. It was just a precaution. Barry's balance still wasn't the greatest. Whatever they had done to him had seriously messed with his equilibrium. Joe had to stay in the bathroom with him just in case he slipped. Barry absolutely hated it, but he hated the idea of being stuck bare-ass naked on the floor of the shower more, so he understood the precaution.

Like always, Barry still didn't feel clean as he stepped out of the shower. He still felt just as violated and contaminated as before. He would never be able to simply wash away the feeling of their touch on his skin or the scars they had left behind. His body didn't feel like it belonged to him anymore. It was like it had been taken from him, like they owned him now. They even left a brand on his skin so he wouldn't forget it.

When he stepped out of the shower the towel wrapped around his waist didn't feel like nearly enough coverage, and without the security of the warm water around him, Barry was already starting to feel very exposed again. It made him nervous and jittery. As he quickly dried himself off with a second towel, Barry got a glimpse of mirror above the sink. When he saw his reflection, he froze.

Joe watched Barry sadly as he took in his appearance in the mirror. It was Barry's first time really seeing himself since being rescued, and the shock on Barry's face didn't surprise Joe in the slightest. Barry slowly reached up and touched his cheek, as if not sure if what he was seeing was real.

He hardly recognized himself, or what was left of him. His face was so gaunt, his cheeks hollow and his eyes sunken. He looked like death itself. He looked older now. What Barry found the most disturbing were his eyes. There was no light there. No life. His eyes looked dead. It was like looking into the face of a stranger. Unable to look at his face anymore, Barry's eyes moved down to the rest of his body. His stomach churned when he took in his bony form, the way his skin, which was covered in hideous scars, now clung loosely to his ribs.

"Barry?" Joe said anxiously, taking a step closer to him.

"I'm disgusting," Barry muttered, looking at his reflection with a revolted look on his face.

"You're not, Barry," Joe said quietly, "You just—"

"Joe, look at me!" Barry said loudly, tearing his eyes away from the mirror to face him.

"I am, Bar," Joe said sadly, "And every time I see what those people did to you, I just…"

Joe's hands balled into fists at his sides. He was so angry. He wanted to find the people who did this to his son and cause them more pain than they could ever imagine. Barry understood the angry expression on Joe's face. If there was anything he understood now, it was anger. Anger and pain. Both burned white hot in Barry's core, and right now, his anger seemed to be the only thing fueling him.

"I need to get dressed," Barry said flatly.

He had a sick look on his face, and he didn't look in the mirror again. Seeing his own reflection was actually starting to make him feel physically ill. Joe helped Barry get dressed. When Barry reached for the buttons on his shirt, Joe waited patiently, letting him try it on his own before helping him. Barry's fingers really didn't work at all. They fumbled sloppily with the little plastic buttons. Barry wasn't even able to get one button through its loop. He frowned down at the shirt, getting more and more frustrated every time the button slipped from his grasp.

"Barry, I can do it," Joe said gently, reaching a hand out.

Barry sighed and dropped his hands, his eyes looking up towards the ceiling as he let Joe button the shirt for him. Joe purposely took his time, not only because quick movements made Barry uneasy, but also because he didn't want Barry to feel bad if he went and flew through all the buttons in a couple seconds when Barry couldn't even get one.

At breakfast, Iris and Joe both noticed that Barry didn't eat all of his food. He ate a banana and some toast, but he didn't touch any of the eggs or oatmeal that was set out on the table. It didn't escape their notice that Barry was only eating foods he could eat with his hands. The truth was, he was too embarrassed to try eating with silverware in front of them again. He hated feeling like a little kid with the way he had to hold the utensils, and he was tired of being frustrated every time he dropped the fork or spoon he was holding.

They asked him if he was still hungry, but he shook his head. As thin as he was, Barry still couldn't eat a lot of food. His stomach had shrunk tremendously, and he had to eat small, frequent meals now instead of large ones.

After breakfast, Iris asked Barry if he wanted to watch another movie, but Barry just shook his head. Instead, he wanted to go outside to sit for a while. Sitting out there on the back patio, with the sun finally touching his pale skin and a light breeze playing at his face, Barry was the most comfortable he had been since getting home.

Iris and Joe gave him his space, looking out the window periodically to check on him but otherwise leaving him be. They sensed he wanted a little space right now, and as painful as it was, they decided to give it to him. He had his back turned to the window, so thankfully he couldn't see them constantly peeking at him, but on the other hand, they couldn't see his face. Around noon, Iris finally went out by Barry to sit with him.

"You're going to burn if you sit out here in the sun for too long," she said to him, smiling as she sat down next to him.

Then she saw his face.

"Barry?" she said with concern, seeing that he had tear stains etched down his cheeks and that fresh tears were still continuing to escape his eyes.

Had he been crying out here this entire time?

Barry sniffed and looked away from her.

"Oh, Barry," Iris said sadly.

He let out a strangled sob and tried to hide his face from her by looking to the side. She leaned forward more so she could still see the side of his face.

"I c-can't escape them," he said quietly, "I can't escape them, Iris."

"Barry, you _did_ already. You _did_ escape them," she told him.

Barry just shook his head. She could see new tears running down his face.

"It's like they've still won," he choked, "I'm h-home now, but it's like I'm still there. I'm st-still on that table."

"Barry, you're not," she said sadly, "You're safe n—"

"I know!" Barry nearly yelled, turning to finally face her, looking at her with red, watery eyes, "I know that I'm safe now. Physically, I'm safe, and I know that."

Iris swallowed.

"And mentally?"

"Mentally, I'm still there. I'm still in that p-place," Barry said brokenly, "It all keeps replaying in my head, over and over again, and I d-don't know how to get it to stop. I'm always g-going to be there, Iris. I'm always going to be on the table."

He clutched at the sides of his head, as if trying to claw the memories out. He ducked his head down, and his entire body was wracked with sobs. Iris wanted so badly to place a hand on his back to comfort him, but she knew she shouldn't.

"Barry," she said softly, trying not to let her voice crack, "Maybe if you talked about it. Maybe if you just told someone about it, it wouldn't weigh on you so much."

Barry looked up at her, his eyes wet and bloodshot.

"Tell me something, Barry," Iris insisted desperately, a few tears now escaping her eyes, "Tell me anything. Let me try to take some of the burden away from you."

Barry shook his head and looked away from her again. His breath hitched repeatedly as he became overwhelmed with sobs. It killed Iris to see him like this, hurting so much, and she couldn't even hug him to make him feel better.

"I don't f-feel like myself anymore," he cried.

"Barry, I know some really terrible things were done to you, but you're still you," she told him desperately, "I know that the same person is still inside you somewhere."

"That's just it, Iris," he said, meeting her eyes again, "I don't feel like a _person_ at all anymore."

Iris looked into his sorrowful eyes, and she noticed the way his fingers absently traced around the brand on his arm again. She felt her heart break for him when she finally understood what he was trying to say.

"They dehumanized you," she said quietly, "They made you feel like you weren't human."

Barry nodded tearfully at her and wiped a few tears from his face with his shaky hands.

"How am I supposed to be the p-person I used to be again when I don't even feel like a person at all anymore?" he asked her, fresh tears now leaking from his eyes, "I don't even r-remember who that was. I don't remember who I was before or how I could b-be that person again. When I look inside myself now, I don't see me anymore. All I see is…"

Iris's breath started to hitch in her throat as she, herself, was starting to become overwhelmed with sobs of her own.

"What, Barry?" she choked, "What do you see?"

Barry's watery eyes darkened.

"All I see is them. All I see is their faces," he said brokenly, "All I hear is their voices. All I feel is…pain and anger. I'm not a person anymore. I'm just w-walking hatred."

"That's not true, Barry," she told him desperately, "You have more love in your heart than any person I know. You've done so much to help people. You didn't deserve any of this. You've done so much good, and you've saved so many lives."

"And now my own has been taken from me," he said flatly, "The sick thing is, they made me feel like I deserved it. They had me convinced that I earned everything that they were doing to me."

"How could you ever believe that, Barry?!" Iris cried, "How could you possibly think you deserved everything that happened to you?"

"Iris, look at all the things I've done since I got my powers," he said bitterly, "I killed Eddie. I killed Ronnie. I caused a singularity that killed several other people and tore the city apart. And by doing so, I allowed Zoom access to our world. I allowed that monster into our lives."

"Barry, none of that was your fault," Iris said in a small voice.

Barry just shook his head and sighed.

"Yes it was," he said quietly, "And sure, I may have closed the breaches now, and Zoom can't get to us, but he's still terrorizing his own world. I left them all at his mercy and selfishly took refuge on my own earth."

"Barry," Iris said, "You're a lot of things, but you are definitely not selfish. You are the most giving, selfless person I've ever met. You may have made some mistakes, but so did the rest of us. Any mistakes that you may have made only prove that you're human. You _are_ a person, Barry. Don't let what those people did to you ever make you think otherwise. You have more than made up for your mistakes with all the good you've done."

Barry looked at her with watery eyes, a few more tears sliding silently down his face.

"You didn't deserve it, Barry," Iris said firmly, "No one ever deserves to have done to them what was done to you."

Barry nodded but still didn't look like he fully believed her words.

"Maybe it was for the best, though," he said quietly, "Maybe it was a good thing that they were keeping me there."

Iris gave him an incredulous look, thinking maybe she had heard him wrong.

"What are you talking about, Barry?" she asked, "How could any of that have been a _good_ thing?!"

Barry just shook his head and sniffed.

"N-never mind," he muttered.

"No, Barry," she said stubbornly, leaning forward, "I want to know. Why would you say that?"

Barry sighed and wiped a few more tears from his face.

"It's just something that the scientists used to say to me. It's nothing," he said dismissively.

"It's _not_ nothing, Barry," Iris said firmly, "What did they say to you?"

Barry sniffed again. He gave her a pained expression and then looked at his hands as he spoke.

"They told me I deserved this," he said quietly, "They said I was dangerous, and they were keeping me there for everyone else's safety. They said it was selfish of me not to share my gift with the world, that the science they were doing was going to help way more people than the Flash ever could. All the Flash ever did was leave a trail of destruction and carnage in his wake while he falsely played hero."

"Oh, Barry," Iris said sadly, "None of that is true. You _are_ a hero, and you're not dangerous."

"I'm not a hero, Iris," Barry said quietly, "I never was. I only thought I was. I was a pseudo-hero, running around in that stupid suit, foolishly thinking I was saving the day, causing more harm than good."

"Barry…" she said, shaking her head sadly at him.

"I _am_ dangerous," he said quietly, "Look at what I did to Caitlin."

"Barry, no one blames you for that," she said quickly, "You were terrified. You thought she was trying to hurt you. After everything that's been done to you, no one can blame you for something you did in a moment of panic."

Barry just shook his head, tears running down his face.

"Maybe I was at my most useful when I was there, in that lab. Maybe what they were doing to me, the research they were doing, maybe that was more important. Maybe they were right. It was selfish of me not to share my gift with the world."

"Barry, that is _not_ how you are supposed to share your gift," she said firmly, "You're supposed to do that by being the Flash, not some lab rat. No amount of 'greater good' bullshit justifies the things that were being done to you in that place."

Barry pulled his legs up onto the chair he was sitting in, wrapping his arms around his knees. It pained Iris to see how confused they had made him. His thoughts were all messed up from what had been done to him.

"Barry, you are a _good person_ ," Iris said insistently, "Don't let them mess with your head and make you doubt that. It's over now, Bar. They can only corrupt your mind now if you let them."

Barry rested his forehead on his knees, burying his face in his arms as his body shook with sobs. Iris reached her hand out again, wanting to rest it on his shoulder, but painfully, she pulled it back. She desperately wished there was more she could do for him. He was hurting so much, and it killed her to see him in this much pain and not be able to do anything about it. All she could do was sit there with him, providing silent support as he cried.


	6. Not Just a Dream

**Warning: Very graphic medical scene. I have a warning in the text at the start and end of the scene for those who wish to skip. Reading it is optional.**

* * *

 **Not Just a Dream**

* * *

"His blood pressure is too low. We should wait to start the procedure."

"It's fine," a man's voice answered.

Barry tried to open his eyes, but it was like his eyelids were made of lead.

"He's been out of it for days. Maybe if we let him actually rest for a little while…"

"Dr. Holland, are you going soft on us?" the man joked.

Barry finally managed to pry his eyes open. His irises were instantly flooded with harsh fluorescent light. He was confused at first as he tried to take in his surroundings.

No. No. No. This wasn't right. He couldn't be here. He couldn't be back here, in this cold room. He was home now. He was safe. This isn't real. He's safe now. He's not supposed to be here.

"Okay," a familiar voice said, "Let's just go ahead and start the procedure."

Dr. Holland's face swam into view. But she couldn't be here right now. Barry was home. He was home. Safe. Barry tried to move his limbs, but they were met with resistance. He knew the feeling of the cold, metal restraints on his wrists and ankles all too well. This had to be a dream. It had to be.

But the frigid metal felt way too real. The shiver that ran through him felt real. The ache in his back from lying on the table felt real. This was actually happening. He was really here. He was really on the table again.

"No," Barry whispered, "Please no."

It had all been a dream. He had never gone home. He had never been saved. He had been here, deliriously dreaming of freedom as he laid on this surgical table. He was still here, and he had been the entire time. His mind had just been playing one long, cruel joke on him like always. He should have never let himself believe otherwise. It only made it that much harder when he had to return to reality. He should have known better, should have known that it was too good to be true. He was never going to leave this place.

He felt a drape being pulled over his torso and looked around to see what they were doing. There were four scientists there. Barry instantly recognized each of them. He would never fail to recognize their faces now. One of them, Dr. Thompson, started cleansing an area of skin on Barry's chest. Barry shuddered when he felt the cold iodide against his skin. Yes, this was definitely real. This was really happening. He could even smell the harsh odor of antiseptic.

 **START OF GRAPHIC SCENE**

He didn't fully believe it was actually happening until he felt the pain. When he felt the familiar sharp sting of a scalpel slicing into his skin, he knew he wasn't dreaming. No dream could possibly produce pain like this. Barry clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt them cut one long line down the center of his chest.

He gasped when they used a retractor to separate the skin and keep the incision open. Barry let out a sob when he realized what they were planning to do to him. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew where this was going, and he started to shake uncontrollably just from the thought of it. Tears escaped his eyes when he saw the head surgeon reach for another tool. Barry knew what came next.

"Please!" he practically screamed, "Please don't! Please!"

Barry started to hyperventilate when he saw the circular electric saw in the surgeon's hands.

"Please!" he cried, "I'm awake! Please! You can't do this to me when I'm awake!"

He shuddered in horror when he heard the small high pitched hum of the saw being turned on, and he squeezed his eyes shut when the blade was brought down to his chest. And then all he knew was pain. Barry's entire body tensed, his hands balled into fists, and his toes curled in pain as they divided his sternum. It seemed to go on forever, and Barry tried to hold back his tears—he really did—but he couldn't help it. He was completely devastated. How could he be back here? How?!

Barry didn't even notice when the power saw was finally turned off. He was too focused on the pain that had taken over the center of his chest, the center of his very being. It felt like it was radiating throughout his entire body. Wave after wave of mindless pain washed over him.

He was just thinking the worst of it was over when he saw another large retractor being pulled out. When they had the retractor in place and started slowly cranking his chest plate open, Barry could hardly breathe. The room seemed to be filled with noise, and that was when Barry realized he had been screaming this entire time without realizing it. Terrible, blood curdling screams were escaping his lips as they forced the bone to separate.

They cracked open his chest painfully slowly. Barry felt like he was being torn apart, and he could feel all of his bones shifting, the ribs in his chest being displaced as they cranked his sternum open wider. Barry screamed even louder.

"Oh, God. Please stop!" Barry cried, "I can't do this! Please! I'm awake! I can feel! Please, just stop! Just let me go! Please! I just want to go home. Please! Stop!"

Barry shuddered in horror and disgust when he felt their hands inside him. Against his better judgement, Barry looked down, and what he saw made him want to pass out. He could see his own heart beating wildly in his chest, and he could see their gloved hands touching it, getting ready to cut into it. He felt bile rise in his throat.

 **END OF GRAPHIC SCENE**

Barry turned his head to the side and vomited. He didn't know how he even managed it considering his stomach was long empty. Normally he just dry heaved. Once his mouth was clear, Barry started to cry out again.

"Please stop!" he sobbed, "Please stop touching me! Please. Please. I can feel everything you're doing right now. Please stop! I'm begging you! Please just stop!"

He clenched his eyes shut, willing himself to pass out for once. Please, just this once. Let him pass out. Like always, though, his body failed to provide him the relief that was unconsciousness. There was no escaping the pain, no matter what he did. It was just there, always demanding to be felt. He tried to think of the comforting memories of his family and happier times to escape from the pain, but that tactic hadn't worked for him for some time now. All he could focus on were the hands on him, the hands _in_ him. So many hands. Always touching him. They were always so cold and rough.

"Please, I can't do this," Barry sobbed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut as tears ran down his face, "Please, just let me die already. Please, let me die. Let me die."

The hands were shaking him harshly now, gripping onto his shoulders and shaking him so that his whole body moved. A man was shouting loudly, but Barry couldn't make out what he was saying. The hands shook him again.

"Barry!" someone yelled.

The shaking grew rougher, and Barry let out a sob. Tears streamed down his face as he continued to chant, "Please. Please," over and over again.

"Barry!" a woman's voice called, "Barry, wake up!"

"Please don't hurt me anymore," Barry cried, "Please. Just let me die. End it. Please, just kill me already."

"BARRY!"

Barry's eyes snapped open, and he was immediately shocked and disoriented when they weren't met with the harsh fluorescent light that had been there a moment ago. Instead, his eyes were met with darkness. He gasped in shock as he tried to figure out what had happened. The hands that were on Barry's shoulders tightened.

"Barry," Joe's soft voice said.

Barry quickly shoved the hands off of him and pushed himself away from where the voice had come from. A light went on then, and Barry could finally see Joe and Iris in his bedroom. Joe was sitting on the edge of the bed while Iris was by the doorway where she had just flipped on the light switch. Barry had moved as far back in bed from them as he was able.

"Barry, it's okay," Joe said soothingly, reaching a hand out to him.

Barry shook his head and flinched violently away from him.

"D-don't t-touch me right now, Joe," Barry gasped, still shaking his head as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"Don't touch me," he muttered quietly, "Don't touch me."

With a worried look, Joe pulled his hand back and stood up from the bed to give Barry some space. Barry sat up and curled into himself, rubbing a hand absently over his chest as he strained to control his wild breathing. He pulled down on the collar of his sweat soaked-shirt to look at his chest, but everything was intact. No blood, no cracked open chest cavity, no exposed beating heart.

All that was there was the scar.

It served as a reminder that all of that had really happened. It hadn't happened tonight, but it had happened. He still remembered that day very clearly, and he would never forget the sight of his own heart being touched and handled by those scientists. He would never forget what that had looked like—what it had _felt_ like.

Barry was still feeling somewhat confused. A moment ago he had been living a real live nightmare, but now he was slowly beginning to realize that it had been just that. It was just a nightmare. But what if it wasn't? What if he had finally managed to pass out on the table, and this was actually just another dream? Barry didn't even know what to believe anymore. He didn't know which reality was actually real. Maybe his mind had finally cracked and he had gone insane. He didn't know.

All he knew was that right now, he was sitting up in his bed, and Joe and Iris were both still standing there looking at him with concern. That was his reality, at least for now.

"I'm fine," Barry finally whispered to them after a moment, unable to look them in the eye.

"Barry, you're shaking," Iris said quietly to him.

Barry hadn't even noticed how badly he was trembling. He looked down at his hands and tried to make them still, but he couldn't. He could still feel it. He could still feel the pain from the surgery he had just endured. His chest felt like it had been torn apart, and his back still ached from lying on the table. To him, it all still felt so real.

"We couldn't wake you," Joe added, "We've been in here for ten minutes trying to get you to wake up."

"I'm sorry," Barry muttered, still staring down at his shaky hands.

"You don't have to apologize, Barry," Joe said instantly, "You don't ever have to apologize for this."

Barry reached up and wiped some of the tears and sweat from his face. His whole body was covered in sweat, but that wasn't the reason why he was suddenly feeling so dirty. He was starting to feel overwhelmed by just how contaminated he felt right now after what he had just been through.

"Barry, do you want to talk about it?" Iris asked, "Maybe it would help if you told us about your dream."

"It wasn't a dream," Barry said darkly, "It…"

Barry took a deep breath and tried not to let any more tears fall, but his eyes were burning with them. How could he explain this to them? How could he possibly explain that what he was experiencing every night weren't just dreams? They were memories, and they were terrifyingly real to him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly, his breathing now starting to get back under control.

Iris sighed, but she nodded understandingly, knowing now wasn't the time to press him.

"Are you still feeling sick?" Joe asked.

Barry looked at him with a confused expression.

"You threw up," Joe told him, and he gestured to the small amount of vomit that was next to Barry's pillow.

Barry must have actually thrown up from his nightmare. He had actually gotten sick from reliving the images in his head.

"I'm fine," Barry said, "Sorry about that."

Joe just shook his head.

"Stop apologizing, Bar," he said softly.

"Can I get you anything, Barry?" Iris asked, desperate to be useful in some way, "What do you need?"

"I need to shower," Barry said immediately.

He took a deep breath then.

"I mean," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "I know it's late, and…never mind. It can wait until morning."

"No, Bar," Joe said, "If a shower is what you need, then that's what we'll do."

"You don't have to stay in the bathroom with me," Barry insisted hurriedly, "I'll be fine on my own."

"No, Barry," Joe said firmly, "I know you don't like it, but I need to be in there for your safety right now. Sorry, son."

Barry sighed. He knew Joe was right. Just the thought of slipping and ending up stuck laying there naked on a hard, porcelain surface made him cringe. It would be too much like the lab. It would be a disaster.

"Come on," Joe said, "Let's get you in there, and Iris will get you some fresh sheets."

Iris nodded and gave Barry a small smile. Barry just nodded slightly.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "Both of you."

* * *

That night had been just one of many restless nights in the West household. Barry's nightmares, although varying in degree and in their contents, seemed to be a regular thing. He just couldn't shut his eyes for very long without the memories playing out in his head again, as if just to torture him. As if he hadn't been tortured enough.

All three of them were completely exhausted by the end of that first week. No one, however, was more exhausted than Barry. His exhaustion from his restless nights translated into harder and longer days for him during his waking hours. His anxiety and paranoia didn't seem to be improving. In fact, some days Joe and Iris thought he was just getting worse.

His obsession with water seemed only to grow. Barry was always anxious if he didn't have a glass of water nearby. He was better about not drinking it constantly now, but he still had to have it near him. He didn't have to drink it. He just had to know that water was always available to him.

Joe and Iris kept finding full glasses of water all over the house, especially in Barry's room. Neither of them said anything about it to him, though. Barry knew it was an irrational habit and that it wasn't going to help anything. He didn't need them to tell him that. So they stayed silent about the small quirk he had developed. They just waited until he was out of the room before emptying the glasses when he wasn't looking. They made sure to leave at least one in every room, though, just to keep him comfortable.

Although Caitlin assured them that Barry was very slowly starting to gain weight back, they found it hard to believe. After a week back at home he still looked just as thin and frail as ever. It didn't help that he was so tall. His height made him look even lankier and more skeletal. Barry's emaciated appearance was still heartbreaking to them whenever they looked at him.

Iris noticed that Barry never looked in the mirror anymore. He didn't usually spend much time in the bathroom anyways, but when he was in there, he noticeably avoided looking at his reflection. Even when he brushed his teeth, he looked down the entire time.

She seemed to notice something new with Barry every day. Like the way he always smelled his food before taking the first bite, as if he expected it to be laced with drugs. Or the way he constantly ran his fingers over the brand scar on his arm without realizing what he was doing. She found out when she was cleaning around the house one day that Barry hated the smell of bleach or any other harsh cleaning chemicals and that using them near him was risking giving him a full blown panic attack.

And he was quiet.

God, was he quiet! Barry had always been so talkative, but now… now his silence was deafening. Barry should never be this quiet for this long. It just wasn't natural. Barry shouldn't be this way. She noticed that he never smiled. _Never_. Not even a fake smile for their benefit. It was like he had given up entirely.

That wasn't true, though. Barry was still trying. He was still working hard on his physical therapy at home. He did his motor control exercises every day to regain control of his hands, and he was slowly making progress with his walking. He still required a cane most of the time, but he didn't need to lean on it as heavily now.

It wasn't easy getting Barry to go back to STAR Labs for a checkup after that first week at home. He seemed to have become terrified of the place. Caitlin gave him his checkup out in the cortex instead of in the medical bay. They tried their hardest to make it feel as little like a medical situation as possible. It didn't help much, though. Barry hated every minute of it. He especially hated it when he had to take his shirt off, but Caitlin kept the checkup brief and like always, she touched him as little as possible.

Barry didn't like getting undressed for two reasons now: one was that being unclothed made him feel vulnerable and exposed, like he was naked on the table again. He felt like exposing himself was somehow a way of handing over power. Like it was giving permission for anyone to do anything they wanted to him. Permission to hurt him. Permission to violate him. Removing his clothes made Barry feel unsafe in a way the rest of them would never understand.

The other reason he hated it was because he hated his body. He hated what those people had done to it, and he didn't want the others to see it. He knew he would heal with time, but the scars would stay, and that was something he would eventually just have to come to terms with. Barry also hated how thin he was. He wasn't just an ordinary sort of thin. He was shockingly skeletal. His legs were so thin, there was a gap between his thighs, and his arms were practically just skin and bone with nothing else on them. It felt so wrong. He felt so frail and weak from the lack of muscle he had now.

When Caitlin placed her stethoscope over his heart, she had trouble hearing anything. The diaphragm of the stethoscope didn't lay flat against his skin. His chest bones created too much of a gap, and she struggled to find a place where the bone didn't get in the way. There was just no tissue there anymore to act as a cushion.

Out of respect, everyone controlled their facial expressions when Barry was undressed, but he knew they had to be disgusted by him. He knew they had to be staring at his ribs or his spine or the way his hip bones jutted out. How could they not be? Barry watched their faces as he took his shirt off. Their faces were _too_ neutral. _Too_ controlled.

He really wished they had all just left the room while Caitlin was looking him over. They thought their presence would be calming to him, but it was just the opposite. Not only was he self-conscious as hell, but the way they all stood there staring at him was slowly starting to remind him of how he felt with the scientists all standing and looking down on him and his exposed body. He felt so violated just to have their eyes on him, and he was extremely relieved when Caitlin finally told him he could get dressed again.

Once Barry had quickly put his shirt back on, Caitlin gave him a nervous look and bit her lip.

"Barry," she said cautiously, "I really need a blood sample."

"No," Barry said instantly, "You're not doing that. You're not getting one."

"Barry, please," she said, "There are so many things I need to check for. You had twenty-four different drugs in your system the night we brought you back here. I need to check for any blood dyscrasias or lasting effects."

"Barry," Iris said softly, sitting next to him, "She's not going to hurt you. It's just Caitlin, and she's only getting a little blood."

"I've had enough needles," Barry said, shaking his head, "So many needles. I can't stand to have another one in me again. Please."

"Bar, you'll hardly feel it," Joe said to him reasonably, "It will be over quickly. Just don't watch."

"What if I panic?" Barry said, tears filling his eyes, "What if…what if I hurt one of you?"

"You're not going to do that, man," Cisco said surely, "You've got this. I know you do."

Barry shook his head, blinking back the tears.

"Please don't do this," he said pleadingly, "Guys, please don't put me in this situation right now."

"I wouldn't if it wasn't necessary," Caitlin said sadly, "This is for your health, Barry. You know there are about a million more tests that I want to do right now, but I'm keeping them to a minimum for your sake. I'm only doing what's absolutely necessarily, and I'm sorry, but this is necessary. Those drugs really messed your system up. I need to make sure your body is healing and repairing itself."

Barry started to full on cry now. He kept shaking his head, not looking at any of them.

"Please don't do this," he muttered, "Please stop. Please stop. I can't. Please stop."

His eyes were becoming unfocused in a scary way, and Caitlin put her face in front of his, so he could focus on her.

"Barry, hey!" she said, "Are you still with us? It's okay. You're going to be fine. You're perfectly safe here."

Barry seemed to snap out of it slightly, and his eyes refocused on her, but he still had a terrified expression on his face and was shaking uncontrollably now.

"We have to do this," Caitlin said, looking at him with watery eyes, "I'll be gentle, Barry. I'll be so gentle. It won't be like…like them. Okay?"

Barry nodded, but a few tears leaked from his eyes at the same time. Iris sat close to Barry but didn't touch him while Caitlin got the supplies out. When Caitlin pulled the needle out, Barry cringed and gripped the edge of the chair he was sitting on.

"It's alright, Bar," Iris cooed, "You're safe. You're safe."

Barry thought he was going to be sick when the familiar smell of rubbing alcohol reached his nostrils. He didn't _feel_ safe. He flinched violently when Caitlin wiped off an area of skin on his arm. Did they not realize how terrible this was for him? How horrifyingly familiar it all felt to him? Barry's heart was racing as he immediately started to sweat. Caitlin picked up on it rather quickly.

"Try to calm down, Barry," Caitlin said in a soothing voice, "I only want to have to do this once. Panicking is just going to make it harder."

Barry tried to keep his breathing and his shaking under control, but when Caitlin brought the needle close to his skin, he thought he was going to be sick. It was too much. Too familiar.

"Don't watch, Bar," Joe said to him, "Look at me."

Barry shook his head.

"No, I need to see everything she's doing," he said in a shaky voice.

When Caitlin guided the needle into his skin, Barry went completely white. She was so much gentler than what he was used to, and if he was being honest, it barely even hurt. It didn't matter, though. For him, it wasn't about the pain at all. It was simply the situation that did it. It only took a couple seconds for his mind to flip. Within just a few seconds of seeing the needle penetrate his skin, Barry wasn't at STAR Labs anymore. He was at the facility. He was on the table.

Barry felt like he couldn't breathe, and his vision started to go fuzzy around the edges. When he looked up from his arm to look at Caitlin, she wasn't Caitlin anymore. To his horror, another woman was sitting in front of him, her cold eyes gazing at him with no remorse.

"D-Dr. Holland," he said in a small, terrified voice.

He tore his arm from her grasp, scrambling away from her. He felt himself land on the floor, and he heard voices all around him but didn't know what they were saying. In a panic, Barry scrambled away from them. He was still on the floor, trying to get up while also trying desperately to put as much space between himself and the scientists as possible. He didn't turn to look at them. His only focus was on getting away.

When he felt hands on him, Barry started to scream.

"No! No, no, no, no!" he screamed hysterically, "Let go of me! Don't hurt me anymore! Please!"

Barry stopped moving on the floor. He curled up into himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms protectively over his head as he cried. He felt the hands leave him, but he could still sense somebody's presence near him. He felt like he was surrounded, and they were going to advance on him at any second. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed them to just go away.

"Please," he sobbed, breathing heavily, "Don't touch me. Please just leave me alone. I just need a break. I can't do another surgery. Please."

"Barry," he heard someone say, but he kept his eyes closed.

He curled tighter into himself and let the tears run down his face as he hyperventilated.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I won't fight back again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll do anything you say. I'll be good. I'll stop moving all the time. I won't scream anymore if it annoys you. I'll just lay there and be good. I'll be good! Just please don't do it! Don't do it! Please! You're going too far! Please! I can't handle that! It's too much! I can't do it! I can't!"

Caitlin, Cisco, Iris, and Joe all exchanged worried looks as they looked down at Barry, curled up brokenly on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. They had no idea what he thought they were trying to do to him, but whatever it was, it was something really awful. What was worse was the thought that whatever it was he was thinking of had probably already been done to him at some point.

"I can't," he sobbed repeatedly, his breathing becoming shallower, "I can't, I can't."

"Barry," Joe said again, but Barry's breathing was out of control, and his entire body was trembling violently.

He had completely cracked, completely broken down—over a blood draw.

It didn't take long for Barry to pass out. He hyperventilated to the point where he got lightheaded, and eventually his eyes closed as he gave in to the darkness.

* * *

Barry could hear their voices as if they were coming through a tunnel. He was relieved to hear that it was the voices of his friends and family and not of the doctors who had been studying him. He recognized their voices immediately.

"Why is he still out?" he heard Joe ask.

Barry tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy and his brain way too foggy.

"Normally when people pass out like that, they wake up within minutes," Caitlin was saying quietly, "But he's been so sleep deprived lately, I think his body is just so desperate for rest that it's causing him to take longer to come to."

Barry groaned slightly as he finally managed to open his eyes. He was lying on one of the beds in the med bay, and they all were looking down at him with worried expressions on their faces. The first thing Barry did was move his arms to make sure they weren't strapped down. He was beyond relieved when he felt that they were free of any restraints.

"Barry," Caitlin said, moving slightly closer to him with her hands where he could see them, "Barry, it's alright. You're safe, okay? You're safe, and no one here is going to touch you."

"What happened?" Barry asked her groggily.

"You had a panic attack, dude," Cisco said, "You completely lost it and starting trying to escape us."

Barry looked nervously around the room.

"But, Doctor…Doctor Holland, she…" Barry stuttered, "She was here. She was here in STAR Labs."

"Dr. Holland isn't here, Barry," Caitlin reassured him.

They all exchanged guilty glances. Really, that wasn't entirely true. Dr. Holland was still locked in the pipeline, seeing as they had yet to decide what to do with her. It's not like they were going to kill her, but the thought of just letting her walk away made them all sick to their stomachs. They compromised on just keeping her prisoner for now, something Barry still didn't know anything about.

Barry shook his head, a confused yet insistent expression on his face.

"I saw her," he persisted, "I saw her here. She was right in front of me. She was…she was sticking a needle in me."

"That was me, Barry," Caitlin told him gently, "Remember? I needed a blood sample. That was me with the needle."

Barry just shook his head again.

"No," he whispered, "It was Dr. Holland."

Joe and Iris both gave Caitlin worried looks.

"He's really confused right now," she whispered to them, "It's possible the blood draw was enough to trigger the hallucination."

"A hallucination?" Joe asked in a worried voice.

"It can happen with people who suffer from PTSD. Certain triggers can cause a person to relive parts of their trauma. I think that's what happened with Barry today."

"Well, how do we stop it?" Iris asked worriedly, "How do we stop another flashback from hap—"

"Stop," Barry said loudly.

They all stopped talking and looked back to Barry. He was glaring at them.

"Please don't talk about me like that," he said angrily.

Iris gave him a sad look.

"Barry, we were just—"

" _No_ ," he said to her, a dark look in his eyes, "I need you all to talk _to_ me. Not _about_ me. I spent nine weeks lying there listening to those…"

Barry closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

"Just please don't talk about me like I'm not in the room," he said seriously, "Please talk _to_ me."

They all nodded in understanding. The doctors who had studied Barry had hardly ever spoken directly to him. They only spoke to each other, and they had hardly ever even acknowledged his conscious presence. He had spent hours and hours listening to them talk about his medical status and the next test they were going to do to him. The thought of having anyone standing over him talking about him like this again was something he couldn't tolerate right now.

"We're sorry, Barry," Caitlin said understandingly, "I didn't mean to not include you in the discussion."

Barry nodded gratefully.

"I…I know you guys are going to talk about me," he said softly, "Really, I don't care. I just don't want you to do it right in front of me."

They all nodded again in understanding.

"So," Barry said, trying to relieve the tension, "Did you get your blood sample?"

Caitlin gave him a small smile.

"I did," she answered, "It was a lot easier when you were unconscious. I also did some…other tests while you were out."

Barry gave her a shocked look while she shifted guiltily where she stood.

"What did you do?" he asked nervously, not liking the idea of her doing anything to him while he was passed out.

"I only took a few scans," she said quickly, "I figured that while you were out of it I might as well…"

"…run whatever tests you can," he finished quietly.

She nodded.

"So, did you find anything new?" he asked.

"I haven't looked the scans over very carefully yet, but from what I can tell, most of your bones are set the way they should be now."

"Most of them?" he asked worriedly.

"Well, a few of them are a bit out of place in some areas, but don't worry. We're not going to do anything to fix them unless they become problematic. I'm not going to put you through any unnecessary procedures."

Barry let out a sigh of relief.

"I also checked your internal organs," Caitlin said with a nervous glance at Joe and Iris.

She hadn't told them about this part yet.

"The MRI shows that the section of your liver that they removed has mostly grown back."

Upon hearing this, Iris looked like she was going to be sick, and Joe looked like he wanted to hit something.

"They removed part of his liver?" he asked angrily.

Caitlin nodded.

"Thankfully the liver is a regenerative organ though, so it has mostly grown back and should eventually regain full function. His kidney, though…"

"He's missing a kidney?!" Iris asked, horrified.

"Yes, but thankfully his remaining kidney has enlarged in order to compensate, and it should be able to do the work of both kidneys now instead. Really, he's recovering very well."

Barry cleared his throat loudly. They all looked back at him.

"Sorry, Barry," Caitlin said, making sure to look directly at him, "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Just a little bit," Barry said with a sigh.

"Well, you're doing very well, Barry," Caitlin assured him, "Physically. The damage that was done to you seems to be healing."

Barry didn't comment on the fact that she hadn't mentioned his mental progress. Probably because he hadn't made any. At least, it felt like he hadn't. He wasn't staring blankly at the ceiling like he had been that first night, but other than that, he still felt just as broken and hollowed out inside, even after being out of the facility for a few weeks now.

When they finally left STAR Labs, Barry couldn't help but feel relieved. He knew Caitlin would never hurt him, but he was still anxious being around her while she was assessing him. Although STAR Labs was very different from the lab that he was in, it still sort of reminded him of the terrible place, and Barry felt so much better when they finally exited the building.


	7. Barry Allen is Dead

**Warning: Suicidal thoughts**

* * *

 **Barry Allen is Dead**

* * *

Barry slowly adjusted into life back at home. It was difficult. Each day seemed to pass by meticulously slowly. He wished he had more to do, had some sense of purpose. Right now, it felt like he was just a burden on everyone around him. Joe and Iris spent all day taking care of him—or trying to, at least—and then he'd keep them up every night with his nightmares. For them, it must have felt like having a newborn baby in the house. It made Barry hate himself all the more to know how much strain he was putting on his family.

Iris hadn't returned to her job fulltime yet. She was currently just working from home so she could spend her days with Barry. Cisco and Caitlin stopped in from time to time, but they all quickly learned that Barry didn't like too many people around him at once. He wasn't rude enough to say it, but having them all there made him more uncomfortable and uneasy. They knew when it came to Barry now, the less people the better.

Iris noticed that every now and then Barry would have these moments. At random times throughout the day, he would suddenly change. It sometimes was hard to detect, but she usually noticed it every time now when his hands suddenly clenched and his pupils dilated. Even his breathing seemed to change. For a just a moment or two, Barry would take on the appearance of someone who was completely and utterly terrified. He would shake slightly for a few minutes after it had passed, and Iris could tell there was clearly something wrong, but he denied it every time she asked him about it.

The days were getting longer and harder to fill. Barry almost wanted to go back to work, just to have something to fill the time and give him some sense of purpose, but he wasn't anywhere near ready yet. Physically he was still recovering. He could walk better now, but he couldn't even fully dress himself yet for crying out loud! His joints were stiff, and it was hard for him to be up and about for too long. He had to lay down every couple of hours to relieve the strain, especially in his back and his knees. He still had pain from some of his internal injuries and from some that hadn't healed quite right. He didn't tell Caitlin about his pain, though. He didn't want her to do surgery on him or rebreak any of his bones. He'd rather just deal with the pain than have to go through any of that again.

He also wasn't ready to face everyone at work just yet. He still hadn't gone out in public since getting home, and Barry didn't know if he wanted his first time out again to be at work. He didn't know how he was going to be when he was around people yet. He could barely handle being around his own _family_ at the moment.

He tried to find comfort in their company—he really did—but he only found fear. He was afraid of them. Rationally, he knew he needn't be, and he was able to swallow down that fear most of the time, but that didn't change the fact that it was still there. He was still terrified, and he was still mistrustful. To him, anyone and everyone was pure evil. There was no good in people. There was only ugliness and deceit.

 _No_ , he told himself. _That's not true. Your family only wants to help you. They're good people. They would never hurt you._

But they could. They wouldn't, but they could. Anyone at any time could hurt him if they wanted to. It wasn't probable, but it was possible, and that fact was enough for him. The fear of that happening was always there with him, just below the surface. He was scared. All. The. Time.

That was why he knew he couldn't go back to work any time soon. He couldn't let everyone there see him like this. He didn't want them all to see how broken he was. How was he supposed to face them? It seemed to take all the strength he had just to get out of bed in the morning.

Not to mention the fact that the captain knew everything now. Joe had finally filled Barry in on what he had told Singh, which was basically everything, and then what Singh had told everyone else. The captain had told the rest of the force that the West family—and friends—had been taken by an unknown radical group wanting to know more information about the Flash. They had been targeted because of their known connection to him. It wasn't much of a secret that Joe had some sort of in with the Flash, and his own daughter seemed to be the Flash's only go-to reporter. It also had been rumored by several sources that the Flash had some sort of connection to STAR Labs, although that was mostly just speculation.

The one person who really seemed to be at the center of all of this was Barry Allen. He was connected to Joe and Iris through family, and he worked with STAR Labs. Hell, he _owned_ STAR Labs. He seemed to be the one person that all these people had in common. It was for this reason that no one at the CCPD was surprised to hear that Barry had gotten the worst of the interrogations from the radical group.

The captain had told them Allen had withstood torture for information on the Flash, which wasn't necessarily untrue. He just left out the part about how that torture had included human experimentation. By this point, everyone knew that Barry was still recovering from the abduction and that it would be a while before he returned.

Barry hated that they knew all of this about him. As much as he wanted things to go back to normal, he dreaded going back to work. He felt psychoanalyzed enough at home. He didn't want to face that at work now, too. No one was ever going to look at him the same again. All they would ever see in him now was a victim. Just that thought made Barry feel sick with shame and embarrassment.

Another huge reason why Barry couldn't go back to work yet was his hands and the fact that they still didn't quite work. He could barely eat and dress himself, let alone write. How was he supposed to work? How was he supposed to fill out reports and sign documents without control of his own hands? He practiced every day, but he was beginning to lose hope that they would ever get their full function back.

Iris sat next to Barry at his bedroom desk. She wanted to support him, but her words of encouragement seemed to only frustrate him more, so she watched him silently. He had a hard time just picking up the pen, having it slip out of his hand a few times before he got somewhat of a grip on it.

Barry slowly and carefully brought the tip of the pen to the notepad in front of him. His hand was already shaking, the pen slipping between his clumsy fingers. He couldn't even manage to write a single letter before the pen slipped, etching a long sloppy line across the page. Barry took a deep breath and tried again.

Within a few minutes the page was just one big mess of scribbles, and Barry was growing more frustrated. Iris wanted to say something encouraging, but the last time she did that, it made Barry quit. He didn't want kind words. He wanted the use of his hands back. He wanted to be able to write his own name. Looking at the page, Iris saw what looked like may have been a B, but it was mostly illegible.

One slip, one more slip of the pen beneath his fingers was all it took before it was too much for Barry. He threw the pen down and stood up from the desk, clenching his fists and breathing heavily through his nose as he glared down at the page of scribbles he had created. Suddenly, without warning Barry let out a roar of frustration and swiped his hand over the surface of the desk, sending all of its contents flying onto the floor.

"Barry," Iris said softly.

He didn't stop there, though.

Barry grabbed the lamp that was on his bedside table and threw it across the room, where it made contact with his dresser mirror, shattering it. Iris stood up in shock, moving away from Barry towards the doorway.

"Barry…" she said, tears starting to leak from her eyes.

Barry had his own tears running down his face now, and he let out a small, strangled sob as he kicked the chair he had been sitting in, causing one of its legs to break.

"I CANT EVEN WRITE MY OWN FUCKING NAME!" he screamed, proceeding to destroy the room.

He picked up a picture frame, a picture of him and Iris, and threw it across the room. It shattered when it hit the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.

They had done this to him. They had taken everything from him, and he was never going to be him again. Not just physically, but mentally. Barry would never have his life back, not the way it was before.

"Barry, please," Iris said in a small voice, sobbing as she watched his anger unravel, "Stop."

Barry didn't listen to her, though. He picked up a glass, one of his stupid glasses of water that no longer did anything to make him feel safe, and he chucked it across the room, ignoring the tinkling sound of breaking glass as he looked for something else to break.

Suddenly her father rushed in, having heard the commotion from downstairs.

"Oh, wow," he said, looking at the state of the room, "Barry!"

Barry was still trying to destroy anything he could get his hands on, as if breaking something else would somehow _unbreak_ him. Joe grabbed him and practically tackled Barry onto the bed. Barry fought him back weakly, but Joe held him down there.

Barry quickly stopped fighting against him, and completely broke down, sobbing into the pillows.

"Barry…" Joe said softly, loosening his hold on him, but still holding gently onto Barry's shoulders as he sobbed.

"Why did this have to happen?" Barry cried, burying his face in the pillows.

"I know, Barry," Joe said quietly, his heart breaking to see Barry in this state, "I know it's hard and unfair. But it's over now. You just need to give yourself time to heal now. It's over."

"I just want everything to go back to the way it was," Barry sobbed, still clutching the pillow tightly, "I just want my life back. I want to be me again. I want to forget."

"I know, Barry," Joe said sadly, "I know. I've got you, son. It's alright."

Iris still stood in the doorway, her eyes wet as she watched her father console Barry. Joe wasn't touching him now. He had stood up from the bed and was looking down at Barry helplessly as the broken man continued to cry into the pillows.

"I can't do this," Barry cried weakly, "I can't. It's all too much."

"Barry, it's okay," Iris said, "You're safe now. Everything is going to be okay. You're going to be okay, Barry."

"I can't do it," Barry said again, "I can't do it."

"Can't do what, Bar?" Joe asked him gently.

Barry lifted his head from the pillow and looked at him.

"I can't do this anymore. It's so exhausting," he cried, "Trying to be Barry for you guys. I don't know how to be him anymore. I'm not him. I'm not that person now. I'm never going to be who you want me to be."

"Barry," Iris choked, "You don't have to try to be anyone for us. We know you're doing your best, and that's all we can ask of you. It's going to take some time, but you're going to come back. You're going to find your way back to us."

"I don't think I will," Barry said hopelessly, wiping the tears from his face only for them to quickly be replaced by new ones.

He looked away from them to hide his shame. He had never felt so weak in his life.

"Hey, look at me," Joe urged.

Barry reluctantly complied, looking back at Joe with watery, bloodshot eyes.

"Regardless of all that's happened to you," Joe said firmly, "You're always going to be our Barry Allen. Nothing can change that."

"Barry Allen is dead," Barry whispered, "I'm not him. He died in that lab. I'm sorry, but it's the truth, and we all know it. I'm never going to be that person again. I'm just not, and I'm so tired of trying."

"Barry, we're not giving up on you," Iris said in a choked voice, "Please don't give up on yourself."

"It's only been a month, Bar," Joe added, "One month. That's it. You haven't given yourself nearly enough time to fully adjust. I know it's hard right now, but it _will_ get easier. You just need to give it time."

Barry just shook his head, looking away from them again as a few more tears streaked down his face.

"I can't," he said brokenly.

Iris and her father both looked at each other with the same worried expression. Neither of them knew what to do or where to go from here. Before either of them could say anything more to console Barry, though, he was suddenly gone, having flashed out of the room at super speed.

"Barry!" Joe and Iris both yelled, but it was too late.

He was gone.

Joe and Iris didn't waste any time getting to the car. Within a minute Joe had already called STAR Labs and had Cisco on the line. Cisco started trying to track Barry immediately, but it wasn't an easy thing to do if he wasn't wearing his Flash suit. He couldn't run for very long, though, so Barry couldn't be far. All Cisco could really do was hope facial recognition software could pick him up on a security camera somewhere nearby.

"Where's Caitlin?" Joe asked when they reached STAR Labs to find Cisco alone in the cortex.

"She's downstairs," Cisco answered, "Talking to Dr. Holland."

Joe's expression darkened.

"I'll go let her know what's going on," he said, heading for the elevator, "You keep trying to track Barry."

Cisco nodded, and Joe got in the elevator while Iris stayed in the cortex with Cisco, suggesting ideas for places for him to look.

Joe found Caitlin in the pipeline, talking to Dr. Holland through the glass of her cell door. He felt his blood boil just at the sight of the woman, his mind instantly flashing back to all the horrible things he had seen her do to Barry and all the unspeakable things he imagined he hadn't seen. She was the very reason they were in this mess to begin with. She had done this to his son.

"Caitlin," Joe said, ignoring the monstrous woman behind the glass next to them, "Barry's missing."

Caitlin's eyes widened.

"What?" she asked in shock.

"He just took off on us," Joe explained in a strained voice, "He was pretty upset."

"Oh my god," she said, "Is Cisco trying to track him?"

"Yeah, he's on it," Joe told her, "But Caitlin, if we don't find him soon…I'm afraid of what Barry might do. He's not himself, and he was upset when he took off…"

"Joe, you don't think he'd…?"

"I don't know," Joe said, "I don't think Barry would ever do anything to hurt himself, but he's not Barry right now."

Barry's words of "Barry Allen is dead" were still ringing in Joe's ears, and it made him only worry more about what Barry might do. He had just seemed so…hopeless.

Dr. Holland cleared her throat, and the two both looked angrily at her. She was shifting nervously where she stood, looking at the floor.

"He would," she said quietly to them.

"What?" Joe asked her impatiently.

"He _would_ hurt himself," she said softly, looking up to look Joe in the eye, "I've seen it."

"What do you mean?" Caitlin asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Barry…"

Dr. Holland swallowed back tears, having difficulty saying what she was trying to say.

"Barry tried to commit suicide," she nearly whispered. "When he was at the facility, he tried to take his own life."

Joe and Caitlin stared at her as they processed what she was saying. It couldn't be true. Barry wouldn't…

"How?" Caitlin demanded.

Dr. Holland looked at the floor again, wiping her face.

"He bit his own tongue, severing his lingual artery," the doctor told them shakily, "He nearly bled out from it, but we managed to stop the bleeding in time to save him."

Dr. Holland couldn't look up at them. If she had, she would have seen the disgusted and horrified looks on their faces.

"But—but that doesn't mean…I mean, it could have been an accident," Joe reasoned desperately, "It may not have been a suicide attempt at all."

Dr. Holland shook her head sadly.

"It was intentional," she said, "I know it was. I was there when he did it. It was…gruesome. Not an accident. It was a violent act of desperation."

"Barry wouldn't do that, though!" Caitlin cried, "He wouldn't have given up like that!"

Dr. Holland just kept shaking her head, tears flowing down her face.

"Trust me, with the horrendous things we did to him, it was enough to make even the strongest person give up. He was delirious that day. I don't think he even knew his own name at that point. He was suffering terribly and was looking for a way to end it, any way that he could. Anything to get the pain to stop."

She didn't want to tell them all of this, but she knew it was the only way she could get them to understand.

"We tortured that man to the point of insanity," she said quietly, blinking back tears, "We did everything in our power to break him. There's not a doubt in my mind that Barry was suicidal then."

Joe felt like he had been punched in the gut. His stomach was churning, and he felt like all he wanted to do was sink to the floor and scream. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that Barry had actually been driven to that point, but deep down he knew it was true. A couple times now when Barry had had nightmares he had shouted in his sleep different things about wanting to die.

 _Please just let me die already. Please just kill me. Let it be over. End it. Please._

Joe knew now that it was true. Barry had tried to take his own life. Joe's heart nearly shattered just at the thought of it.

"We need to find him," Joe said urgently, trying to keep his voice steady, "We need to find him _right now._ "

Without another word or glance in Dr. Holland's direction, Joe and Caitlin made their way out of the pipeline to join the others upstairs. After they had left, Dr. Holland sank to the floor of her cell, burying her face in her hands.

"What did I do?" she whispered to herself.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: The writing scene was inspired by a similar scene in the show** ** _Skins_** **.**


	8. Say Something

**Warning: Suicide**

* * *

 **Say Something**

* * *

"I found him!" Cisco finally shouted after thirty long minutes had gone by, "He's at the dam. The one by Natal's cliff."

"Thank you, Cisco!" Joe called, not hesitating to run out of the lab, Iris following closely behind him.

They both got into Joe's squad car together while Cisco and Caitlin hopped into one of the STAR Labs vans.

* * *

Barry looked down at the rocks and water below. What if he survived it? What if all this managed to do was further injure him? The last thing he needed was to go through more physical therapy. He knew there were smarter ways to go about this. But he didn't have time. They would find him soon, and Barry couldn't run now. He seemed to have used up all his energy just to get here. If he was going to do it, he needed to do it now.

Something was stopping him, though. It seemed like for so long, his deepest wish was simply to die, and now he could finally have that, but for some reason, he couldn't make himself jump. In his mind, it wasn't just the scientists' faces that swam before his eyes now. The faces of his friends and family also worked their way into his mind, and it made it all so much harder.

He couldn't do this to them. Not after everything. They had been through a lot, too, and they had already nearly lost him. They thought they finally had him back now, but what they didn't realize was that they already _had_ lost him. Barry Allen was gone, and he wasn't ever coming back. Not from this. It would be kinder to free them from this, to take this burden from them. They would be better off with him gone. It would be kinder to rid them of their false hope that he was going to somehow find his way back to them. End it all quickly. Rip off the bandaid.

"Barry," he heard a soft voice say behind him.

Barry closed his eyes. He should do it now, quickly, before they could stop him. Instead, he turned. He turned around to face them, tears streaming down his gaunt face.

"Barry, it's okay," Iris said, taking a tentative step closer to him.

Barry looked at her painfully, begging her with his eyes to not come any closer. The rest all stood behind her, looking at Barry with the same heartbroken expression on all their faces.

"Iris," he said in a strained, raspy voice, "It's not okay. It's never going to be okay."

"Barry, this will pass," she said pleadingly, "I know we can get past this. We just need to give it time."

Give it time.

That's what they all kept telling him, but it didn't help. To Barry, time had stilled completely, the same way that it had when he was in that lab. To him, he felt like he was frozen, forever unmoving, while the rest of the world continued on around him. He could never move forward. He would always be stuck here. Stuck on the table.

"I can't, Iris," he cried, "I can't escape them. You all thought you had saved me, but it was too late. I was already too far gone by the time Oliver came that night. I'm already gone, Iris, so please just let me go now. Let me finally end this."

He glanced back over the ledge, down at the fall below. Fear wasn't stopping him. He had no fear of death. Death would be a reprieve at this point. No. What was stopping him was them. He needed them to understand. He needed them to know why he had to do this.

Iris took a couple steps closer to Barry, but she halted quickly in her tracks when she saw that it made him step even closer to the ledge.

"Barry, please," Joe cried from where he stood, "Please, son. Please just think about what you're doing."

Barry turned his watery eyes onto Joe.

"You really think I haven't thought about this?" he whispered, "Joe, it's _all_ I've thought about."

"Barry, please don't do this!" Caitlin cried, "How can you do this?! How can you do this to us?! To your family?!"

Barry shook his head sadly at her.

"I'm not doing this _to_ you," he said gently, "I'm doing this _for_ you. For all of you. It's the only way."

"Only way?" Joe asked angrily, "How can you think that? How can you say you're doing this _for_ us? Barry, we want you to be _alive_!"

Barry ducked his head down and squeezed his eyes shut as a sob escaped him.

"I'm dangerous," he whispered, "You guys don't realize how dangerous I am. You don't really see me for what I am now. All you see is Barry because that's what you want to see. You can't see the darkness that's in me now. That's all I am. Darkness."

"Barry, that's not true," Cisco said firmly, "We know you. We know you're not the same as you were before, and we understand that, but we also know that you're more than just darkness. You're a good person."

Barry shook his head and looked at Cisco with a hard expression.

"You don't know the thoughts I've been thinking," he said darkly, "You don't know all the things that I want to do now, the things I want to do to them."

"We understand that, Bar," Joe said, "I'm angry with these people, too. I understand why you'd want to hurt them after everything they've done to you."

Barry looked at him in anguish. Joe didn't understand. How could he? Sure, he hated the scientists, too, and wanted justice for what they've done, but there was no way he could understand Barry's sick desire to do so much more than just punish them. He couldn't understand the way that Barry took pleasure in imagining the things he would do to them. Barry even scared himself sometimes with the thoughts inside his head.

He let out another sob and stepped closer to the edge. They all visibly tensed with the movement. He was right on the very edge now. One step would do it. One step would end it once and for all.

"Barry, please," Iris begged him, inching slightly closer, only a few feet away from him now, "I know you're in pain. I know you're suffering. Please, just let us help you through this. You can't give up now. Not after everything. Not after everything you've survived."

Barry looked into her eyes, looked at the tears streaming down her face. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take all the pain he had caused her—her and the rest of his friends and family. He could end their pain. He could take this burden away from them. All he had to do was take one more step…

He couldn't do it.

As he looked away from Iris and looked out over the edge, he couldn't make himself take the last step, not when he knew how much that would hurt them. His death would be the best thing for them, for _everyone_ , but he couldn't do this if they were always going to resent him for it. He couldn't bear for them to hate him like that.

Barry stood on the edge, completely torn. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what would be best for everyone. A moment ago, he had been so sure. He had been positive that this was for the best. He was going to do it without hesitation. He was going to do it for them.

If he was being honest, he was also going to do it for himself. He was exhausted. He was suffering relentlessly. Being removed from that lab may have caused his physical pain to cease, but the memories of what had been done to him haunted him at all hours of the day and night. It was simply too much for one person to bear, and Barry was just so tired. He just wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.

Barry started to question his motives for being on the cliff. Was he really doing this for them? Or was he just telling himself that to distract himself from the fact he was really just selfishly doing it for himself? If he did this, if he killed himself, they would all blame themselves for it. They would always think of what they could have done differently to help him. They would always think they hadn't been enough for him—that they weren't enough to make him want to stay with them, to make him want to live.

Barry slowly and hesitantly took a step back away from the ledge. He could hear their collective sighs of relief behind him. After backing away a few more steps, Barry sank to his knees in resignation and exhaustion. It felt like defeat, and a part of him regretted it the instant he did it. A part of him still wanted to get up and quickly throw himself off that ledge. He had been so close. He had been so close to finally ending this torment. The second he stepped away from that ledge, he lost his chance. He was still alive, and the torment was going to continue.

Barry heard them cautiously approaching from behind him, but he didn't look at them. Instead, he covered his face with his hands, tears rolling down his gaunt cheeks. He was still alive.

They neared him cautiously, approaching him like a skittish horse. They didn't want their movements to cause him to bolt or do anything reckless. Barry didn't want to run anywhere, though. He succumbed to them completely and sat down on the ground, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. Joe stooped down close to him so that he was kneeling a few feet away from Barry.

"It's okay, son," he said softly, "It's okay."

It wasn't okay, though. He was still here, and so was the pain. He was still on the table, and now, Barry realized, he could never escape it, even in death. He would always be on the table. Barry rested his forehead on his knees as he started to sob, surrounded by his friends and family who stood around him, their hearts breaking from the sight. They had never felt more helpless to comfort him.

* * *

For the first few days following that moment at the dam, Barry hardly spoke. He seemed so defeated and hopeless. He barely ever even got out of bed. He wanted to keep trying, but he just couldn't, and the rest of them were more worried about him than ever. At the same time, they were all just so relieved that Barry was still alive. As long as he was still alive, there was still a chance to fix this. They couldn't do that if he was dead.

They all watched him vigilantly, scared out of their minds he would run again or try something reckless. They had discussed the idea of locking him in the pipeline for his own safety, but after much consideration and even quite a bit of arguing, they decided against it. A pipeline cell wasn't much better than restraints, and they didn't think holding Barry in a cell against his will was going to help him recover. It especially wasn't going to help them reestablish trust with Barry. It was painfully clear that he still didn't quite trust them—or anyone for that matter. The scientists seemed to have engrained one solid lesson into his mind:

You can't trust anyone.

The worst part about this whole thing was the fact that there wasn't much they could do to help Barry. Any time any of them tried to console him, he didn't respond well. In fact, he seemed only to retract further into himself by their prying. They didn't know what to do. Barry had reverted back to nearly the same zombie-like state he had been in when they first got him back.

All they could do now was watch him to make sure he didn't try to hurt himself in any way. None of them wanted to call it suicide watch, but they all knew that that was what it was for the most part, and it broke their hearts just to think about it—to think about Barry ever wanting to hurt himself in any way.

It felt like all the progress Barry had made had now been undone. They didn't know what he was thinking or feeling—if he was sad or angry or just numb. Really, it was most likely a combination of the three. They were at a complete loss for what to do and where to go from here.

"Barry, you have to get up at some point," Iris said desperately.

Barry simply rolled over in bed to face the other direction.

"Barry, please just say something," she cried.

She didn't know how many times she had stood here, begging him to say something, anything. He was always silent, and that was how he remained now. He didn't say a word.

"Please talk to me," she begged, "Say something! Anything!"

"There's nothing left to say," he said, so quietly she wasn't entirely sure if he had actually spoken or not.

His response caught her off guard. She was so used to his silence by now.

"Barry, there's _everything_ left to say!" she said with a hint of frustration in her voice.

Her father then entered the room behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Iris," he whispered, "Give him some space. He needs more time yet."

She ignored him, though, and continued to press Barry.

"Barry, how are we supposed to help you through this if you won't even talk to us?!" she demanded.

"What do you want me to say, Iris!?" Barry shouted suddenly, sitting up in bed and turning to look at them.

Iris hesitated for a moment, shocked by Barry's sudden outburst. It had been a while since she had heard him speak, let alone shout.

"Just help us try to understand," she said in a small voice.

"You want to understand?" Barry asked angrily, "I'll help you understand! You want to know what drove me to that cliff that day? Why I wanted to die? Is that it? You want to know all the dirty details of what they did to me to make me this way?!"

"Barry…" Joe said quietly.

"They got into my head," Barry cried as he sat up all the way, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, "They made me believe I was worthless, like I was dirt or some kind of animal. Like I only existed for them to run their tests on me. They cut into me again and again, until I thought I had no more blood left to spill. They laughed every time I squirmed. They beat me every time I cried. They shot me full of so many different drugs and chemicals that I didn't even remember my own name."

"Barry," Iris said, closing her eyes against the pain of everything she was hearing, "Please…"

"Oh, sorry! Not specific or detailed enough for you?!" Barry asked angrily, standing up from the bed with his hands balled into fists, "Maybe you'll want to hear about when they dropped acid on my skin to see how long it took for the flesh to dissolve. Or when they poured boiling water down my throat to get me to stop begging. Or maybe about the time they—"

"Barry!" Joe shouted, cutting him off, "Stop, son! You know this isn't what we want to hear."

Barry glared at him.

"But isn't it, Joe?" he asked quietly, "It's what you guys have wanted all along, for me to talk about my 'trauma.'"

"Barry, we want you to deal with this in a healthy way," Iris said desperately, "You're not coping well."

Barry laughed humorlessly.

"Tell me, Iris," he said coldly, "How is it exactly that I'm supposed to be coping?"

"Well, not killing yourself is a good start," Joe answered, his eyes pooling with tears.

"And not pushing away the people who care about you," Iris said tearfully.

Barry sighed and turned away from them, his hands clenching and unclenching over and over again.

"It's easier than hurting them," he said quietly after a moment.

"Bar, you pushing us away is what's hurting us," Joe said to him, "And it's hurting you, too."

Barry just shook his head, still not looking at him.

"I'm protecting you guys," he said in a shaky voice.

"Protecting us from what, Bar?" Joe asked.

"From me. From yourselves. From your hope," he said brokenly, "Hope only leads to heartache."

"Hope is what keeps us going, Barry," Iris said quietly.

He shook his head again, sniffing as he turned back around to look at them.

"You all think I'm going to get better. You're all hoping your Barry will find his way back to you," he said, tears brimming over and running down his face.

"But he won't," he said in barely more than a whisper, "Your hope is only going to bring you heartache and disappointment. I'm only going to disappoint you. I'm only going to keep hurting you."

"Barry, please," Joe begged, "Don't give up. Please don't stop fighting."

"I gave up a long time ago, Joe," Barry said weakly, "I gave up long before you guys pulled me out of there. This isn't right. I'm not supposed to be here. I was supposed to die. I was supposed to die, back there in that lab. We all know it."

"Barry!" Iris said angrily, "That's just stupid! Of course you weren't supposed to die there!"

Barry looked at her with tear-filled eyes.

"But maybe it would have been better if I had," he said quietly.

"You don't really believe that, Bar," Joe said surely, "I know you don't."

"See, that's the thing, Joe," Barry said seriously, "You don't know me at all anymore. You don't know me."

"I'm trying to," Joe said softly, "We're _all_ trying to, Bar. I understand that you're going to be a different person now, and I'm still trying to get to know that person. I'm trying to see you for who you are now and not for who you were before. I'm trying to understand who you are now and everything that you're going through, but you're making that very difficult."

Barry took a deep breath. The other two could clearly see the tears that had now filled his eyes.

"I'm nobody now," Barry said in a small voice, "I'm nothing. I'm empty. I'm not a…I'm not a person. I'm just what's left of a failed experiment."

Joe and Iris both felt their hearts break. Both of them looked down to see that Barry was etching his fingers over the brand scar on his arm like he so often did now. 0227. That's what he was. A number. Just another experiment. Just another specimen. He didn't have a life outside that lab anymore. He didn't really belong here. All he was good for was to be a lab rat. That was his only purpose. This was the lesson that the scientists had instilled in him. Despite his efforts to resist them, they had managed to fill his head with the idea that he would never truly be a person again. He would always be empty. He would always be an empty vessel to be filled only with more pain and hate.

"Barry," Joe said quietly, "You are so much more than that…"

Barry didn't answer him, though. He simply turned around and got back in bed, back to his place of mourning. He mourned for the life he had lost. He mourned for all the relationships that were now shattered and all the happy moments he would have had with his loved ones had this never happened to him. He had lost all hope. He had lost any drive he had to recover. He was just done. He didn't see the point in trying anymore, nor did he have the energy to. He knew he should try for their sake. He should at least _try_ for them, but he was so tired. Just staying alive for them was the most that he could handle right now.

And even that felt like too much sometimes.

* * *

"Caitlin?" Iris asked, tentatively walking up to the young doctor as she worked behind the desk in the cortex.

Caitlin looked up from the blood sample she was still analyzing in response.

"What's wrong?" Caitlin asked immediately upon seeing the sad look on Iris's face, "Is it Barry? Did something happen?"

"No," Iris said quickly, "Barry is…still the same. My dad and Cisco are watching him right now."

Caitlin nodded sadly, her expression still concerned as she surveyed Iris's troubled face.

"I just…I need to ask you something," Iris said quietly, "Did you ever…watch the videos? The ones of Barry?"

Caitlin looked down briefly before answering.

"No," she said quietly, "I felt like it would be invading Barry's privacy. And if I'm being completely honest, I think I've just been too afraid to."

Iris nodded understandingly.

"I know how you feel," she said, "I don't want to see them myself, but at the same time…I want to understand."

Caitlin gave her a surveying look.

"You want to watch them?" she asked sadly.

"I think I need to," Iris said quietly, "I don't want to see it, but I think I have to. I want to know everything Barry went through. I want to understand him, the _whole_ him, and I think in order to do that, I have to know everything that happened in that lab."

"You don't have to watch them you know," Caitlin told her, "If you want, you could always…talk to Dr. Holland. Or I could tell you everything that she's told me."

Iris shook her head.

"I don't think I could bear talking to that woman," she said stiffly, "And hearing about it isn't nearly the same as seeing it for yourself. I know watching the videos won't ever help me fully understand everything Barry went through, all that he experienced and what it all felt like for him, but it's a start."

Caitlin nodded in understanding.

"We could watch them together," she said quietly, "I haven't been able to do it by myself, but maybe if I had someone else there…"

"Yeah," Iris said, "I think that would be easier."

"I'm such a coward," Caitlin said bitterly, "Barry's the one who had to endure all of that, and I've been too afraid to simply watch a _video_ of it."

"Hey, Caitlin," Iris said soothingly, "I understand you not wanting to watch them alone. I know how you feel."

"But _Barry_ was alone," Caitlin said quietly, "He was alone through all of it. I can't even imagine what that must have been like for him. Being so scared and alone that entire time."

Iris nodded, understanding exactly what Caitlin meant. Caitlin sighed.

"I'll grab the videos."


	9. Hell is Empty

**Hell is Empty**

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Caitlin asked Iris nervously, holding the dreaded jump drive in her hand.

Iris nodded determinedly. Caitlin sighed and inserted the jump drive into the computer behind the desk in the cortex. She was shocked when literally hundreds of files appeared on the screen in front of her.

"I didn't know there were this many," she said quietly.

With a nervous glance at Iris, she clicked on one of them at random, one labeled " _Log 105 Resp Cmpd 34_." A video instantly appeared on the screen. Caitlin paused hesitantly for a moment and took a deep breath before hitting play.

What first appeared in front of them seemed to be some kind of prep table with different medical tools spread out on top of it. The camera appeared to be attached to someone's glasses or something on their head because the shot seemed to move with each turn of their head.

"This is Dr. Cormier," a voice rang out, "Log entry number 105 for subject number 227. Today we will be continuing the respiratory stage of our experiments, using compound number 34."

At that, they could see a pair of hands, Dr. Cormier's hands, preparing some sort of blue liquid chemical and putting it into some sort of device with tubes attached to it.

"That's a nebulizer," Caitlin explained to Iris quietly, "It aerosolizes substances so they can be inhaled."

When the drug was ready, the doctor picked it up and turned, and the camera showed his progress as he walked out of the prep room and into the next room, one that was almost completely white and lit with harsh fluorescent lighting.

Iris's breath caught in her throat when Barry came into view. She had already seen in person what he had looked like, lying naked on that surgical table with metal restraints strapping him down, but she had somehow forgotten how terrible the sight had been. He looked so helpless and undignified. Without any clothes, he was completely exposed, strapped down pathetically, allowing them to do whatever they wanted to him. It was humiliating and degrading, and the sight alone was enough to make both women's stomachs churn.

Barry looked exhausted. He laid limply on the cold table, his tired eyes just barely cracked open. He looked like he desperately just wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. They never let him fully rest. He was covered with different marks and bruises from some other prior experiments they had done to him, and he was trembling slightly. Whether it was from fear or from the cold, they didn't know, but it was heartbreaking to see. He just looked so worn down.

When the doctor approached the table, Barry turned his head weakly away from him, the only movement he could manage to try to escape him. It was futile, though, because a second later the doctor's hand gripped his chin and roughly turned it back towards him. Barry grimaced but didn't try to turn away again. He clearly was too weak to fight it, and there wasn't a point in trying to anyways. If the doctors wanted to do something, they were going to do it, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Subject is alert and oriented," the doctor stated, his hand still on Barry's chin as he observed his face.

He took out a penlight and shined it into each of Barry's eyes.

"Pupils are equal and reactive to light and are accommodating appropriately."

The camera then looked up to the heart monitor.

"Pulse is 180. Blood pressure 126 over 84. Pulse ox is at 95 percent, below his norm of 99 percent. He has a slight heart arrhythmia as an after effect of the cardio experiments yesterday. It shouldn't affect our results today, though."

Barry was visibly growing more agitated. His breathing was steadily increasing in rate, and his eyes were filled with fear as he watched them prepare their materials. The camera soon showed another doctor fitting a breathing mask over the lower half of Barry's face. Barry whimpered quietly, the sound being muffled from the mask. Iris and Caitlin seemed to be the only ones affected by his cries, though, because the doctors in the video didn't falter or hesitate with their procedure.

"P-please," Barry cried weakly, "No drugs. Please n-no more drugs."

"The subject's respirations are at twenty per minute," the lead scientist drawled, "Higher than usual, but the cause is most likely from psychological stress rather than a medical causative factor."

The scientist hooked up the nebulizer to Barry's breathing mask, and after making sure everything was attached correctly, he turned it on. The blue liquid quickly started to take on a gaseous form, filling the mask that was sealed over Barry's face. Barry sobbed as the unknown chemical enveloped his mouth and nose. He tried not to inhale, but within a minute the urge became too great, and he was forced to breathe in the substance.

Caitlin and Iris barely heard the observations that the scientist was now voicing to the camera. They were too focused on the tears in Barry's eyes and the wheezing breaths he was now taking. He coughed violently several times, the chemical seeming to burn his lungs and airway. His breathing only grew more labored and pained the longer he inhaled the substance, and the tears in his eyes eventually brimmed over, streaking down the sides of his face. He tried to plead some more, begging for them to stop and to remove the mask from his face so he could breathe, but the doctors ignored him. They were too preoccupied with studying their results to even hear his pleas.

"Pulse ox has dropped to 91 percent. If it gets below 85, we might have to stop the procedure. Respirations are now thirty per minute, and hypoxia is becoming uncompensated. Subject will most likely go into shock within two to five minutes."

Barry had stopped begging now. He was too breathless to speak. He was taking quick gasping breaths, trying to get oxygen but only getting more of the drug into his lungs. His eyes were bloodshot and watery and after a few minutes they became hazy as Barry become more disoriented. He started to gag weakly, his stomach lurching a couple times, but nothing came up.

Iris sniffed and wiped a few tears from her eyes while Caitlin simply glared at the screen, becoming more and more angry as she watched. Barry was now deathly pale, and his respirations were growing weaker as nearly all of the drug had now been inhaled. A sheer shine of sweat was visible on his forehead, and his eyes were now completely unfocused.

"Subject is now going into asphyxiated shock. Pulse ox saturation is now at 83 percent. There's only a small amount of the compound left, though, so we're going to continue."

Barry's bloodshot eyes were rolling back in his head as he made harsh gasping sounds through the mask. His back arched off of the table, and his arms tugged weakly against their restraints, no doubt as a last desperate attempt to remove the mask from his face, before his entire body suddenly went limp as he lost consciousness.

Another doctor's hand, what looked like a woman's hand, suddenly ripped the mask off his face.

"He's gone into respiratory arrest," she said urgently.

Caitlin and Iris both stiffened. They knew that voice. It was Dr. Holland. She quickly placed an oxygen mask over Barry's face and started giving him ventilations.

"Doctor, the experiment," Dr. Cormier's agitated voice said.

"There won't be any more experiments if he's dead," she said irritably.

After a few minutes of ventilating Barry, he started to breathe on his own again, but his breathing was far from normal. Just when Caitlin and Iris were starting to feeling somewhat grateful towards Dr. Holland for showing Barry some compassion, the doctor started to strike him, harshly slapping him across the face to rouse him.

"Hey, wake up!" she shouted angrily at him, "Come on! Open your eyes!"

Barry's eyes cracked open slightly, but it seemed like he was using all his energy just to keep breathing.

"Pathetic," Dr. Holland muttered, "With the powers he has, he shouldn't be so weak. He should be able to handle more."

She turned away from Barry then, grabbing her clipboard to write down some of her observations. She pulled out her stethoscope and listened to his lung sounds.

"The compound seems to have caused severe bronchoconstriction in his airway," she said after a moment of listening, "Wheezing and rhonchi are audible in his upper airway with a slight crackling heard in his left lower lobe, indicating possible fluid build-up in his lungs."

"Should we give him an albuterol treatment to dilate his airway so he can breathe easier?" Dr. Cormier asked her.

"No," she said dismissively as she wrote on her clipboard, "It should fix itself like always. Don't waste the medication. Just go finish your report for the experiment."

Caitlin paused the video then. Iris tore her eyes away from Barry's face on the screen and looked back at her, tears in her eyes.

"Have you seen enough, or did you want to keep going?" Caitlin asked her quietly.

Iris swallowed and wiped her face, which was set in determination.

"Play the next one."

* * *

"Cisco, I'm really sorry, but my work just called, and they need me to go in," Joe said apologetically, "One of my cases just got a big lead, and I have to follow up on it right away. I know you were just about to go back to STAR Labs, but would you mind watching Barry for a couple more hours while I'm gone?"

"Sure thing, Joe," Cisco said, "He's still in bed, right?"

"Like always," Joe said quietly, "I checked on him not too long ago, so I would just try to check on him again in maybe a half hour or so."

"Gotcha," Cisco said, plopping down on the couch with his tablet.

"He should eat again in about an hour. I have the diet plan Caitlin put together for him on the fridge," Joe told him, "He'll probably want to shower after eating. He showers every couple of hours. It keeps him calm. He can be in there alone now, but make sure you check on him frequently in case he slips."

Joe sighed and then dropped his voice to a whisper.

"There's a tranquilizer in the cupboard above the kitchen sink and one upstairs in my bedroom nightstand. Just in case."

Cisco nodded seriously, having been quickly reminded how serious this was and why a Barry-sitter was necessary right now.

"I'll watch him, Joe," he said sincerely.

"Thank you, Cisco," Joe said gratefully, "If you need anything—anything at all—please give me a call. I'll try not to be too long."

After Joe had left, Cisco looked down at his tablet with a sick feeling in his stomach. He hated this. He really hated it. Not that he had to stay here and watch Barry. He really didn't mind that. It was the fact that Barry even needed to be watched that Cisco hated. It was hard on everyone to see him this way.

When he went upstairs to check on Barry a half an hour later, he didn't find Barry in bed. Instead, he was surprised to find Barry sitting at his desk.

"Hey, dude," Cisco said cheerfully, entering the room slowly, "Whatcha up to?"

Barry sighed and set something down on his desk. It was his cellphone.

"Nothing," he answered quietly, "I can't hit the keys."

"Who are you trying to call?" Cisco asked curiously, "I could help you."

"No one," Barry responded dryly, "Just forget it."

Cisco sat down on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from where Barry sat. Barry stared blankly at his desk and didn't look at him.

"I know you don't feel like talking right now, man," Cisco said gently, "And that's okay. I just want you to know that you _can_ , whenever you're ready. You can talk to me, to any of us. We're here for you."

Barry nodded.

"I..." he started to say.

He swallowed once.

"I want to try," he said quietly, "Cisco, I really want to try. I don't want to be this way anymore. I want to try to be better. I just don't have it in me to. I just don't have the energy to care about anything anymore."

"You will, Barry," Cisco said confidently, "You'll get past this. I know right now the world seems like this dark, cruel place, but it _will_ get better. You won't be like this forever."

Barry didn't answer. He simply stared at his phone again. Cisco looked at it curiously.

"Barry, who were you trying to call?" he asked again.

"Felicity," Barry whispered in reply.

"Do you think it would be easier to talk to her about everything?" Cisco asked somewhat hopefully, "I can dial the number for you, if you think talking to her would be easier for you. You should really talk to somebody, Barry. Anybody."

Barry shook his head.

"I just…I just wanted to see if she had found them," he said, looking at Cisco, "The scientists."

"Oh," Cisco said quietly, and Barry looked away again, "Barry, you know that's not what you should be focusing on right now."

Barry nodded slightly.

"I know," he said in barely more than a whisper, "But it's all I can think about. It's all that I can still make myself _care_ about. The fact that they're all still out there…"

"I know, man," Cisco said, "I know. They're going to get what's coming to them, though. They're going to go to hell for what they did to you."

Barry didn't respond right away. He stared thoughtfully at his desk for a moment or two before speaking again.

"Hell is empty," he whispered, "All the demons are here."

* * *

"Let's see what a few more hours at negative thirty degrees has done to our specimen," Dr. Holland said to one of her fellow scientists.

"Hopefully it helped improve his attitude," the other doctor said bitterly.

The camera wasn't attached to anyone this time but was instead in the upper corner of the room, looking down on the entire scene below so that Iris and Caitlin could see everyone all at once. When the two scientists approached the table, Dr. Holland nudged the unconscious subject roughly to wake him. Barry opened his eyes to glare at them.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" she asked in a deadly calm voice, her breath visible in the frigid air of the lab.

Barry didn't answer right away. Instead he looked at the two scientists for a moment, and Iris and Caitlin were shocked to see his bruised face suddenly stretch into a wide humorless grin, his teeth bloody.

"Nice face, Thompson," Barry smirked.

The other doctor, Dr. Thompson, lunged at him suddenly, but Dr. Holland held him back, stopping him instantly with a deathly serious look on her face. Barry just laughed darkly.

"Let me knock that smug grin off his face," Dr. Thompson growled angrily.

Even through the camera footage, a dark purple bruising around the doctor's eye was visible, and judging by the context, Barry was responsible for the man's shiner.

"He'll get what's coming to him," Dr. Holland said dismissively, "I don't think he'll be laughing once we start the next procedure."

Dr. Thompson nodded angrily while Barry continued to stare defiantly at them, no longer smiling but also not allowing his fear to show.

"Maybe you'll cooperate more if we bring your little family in here," Dr. Thompson threatened.

"Do it," Barry spat angrily.

Dr. Holland shook her head.

"It's what he wants," she told the other doctor, "He doesn't believe us that they're even still alive. He _wants_ us to bring them in here so he can see them…or what's left of them," she added just to torment Barry.

Barry's rebellious façade cracked ever so slightly, and his defiant expression waivered at her words.

"If you hurt them, I swear to God…" he said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"There is no God here," Thompson answered smugly, "There's only us."

Barry glared at him.

"I'm going to get out of here one day," Barry said quietly, looking at both of the doctors, "And when I do, I am going to find you. I am going to hunt you down, every last one of you, and I'm going to make each of you suffer before I kill you. I promise. I'm going to kill you, _all_ of you."

Barry didn't speak again after that. He let them go ahead with their procedure, his face set in determination.

* * *

Dr. Holland stared at the inside of the pipeline cell walls. Now she had a small taste of what it felt like to be held captive. She knew this didn't even begin to compare to what had been done to that young man. What _she_ had done to him. To Barry.

That was the worst part. The guilt, the crushing guilt that weighed on her every moment of every day she spent in the cell. There was nothing to distract her from it. She simply sat there all day long, thinking over all the unspeakable things she had done to that man.

She could hardly bear to think his name. Barry. She forced herself to think it, even said out loud to herself sometimes. She had spent enough time trying to ignore it, trying to ignore the fact that he was a person who had a name and a life, who had actual thoughts and feelings. He wasn't just some faceless, nameless subject like she had spent so long telling herself. He wasn't some emotionless _thing_ to be studied. He was a human being. And she had destroyed him.

It killed her that there was nothing she could do to help him now. She knew he would never heal. How could he? His family didn't even know the half of it. Even the videos wouldn't show them everything. They didn't show the little moments in between the procedures. They didn't show the sick mind games she had played, the little things that she, herself, had said or did to drive Barry over the edge. The videos didn't show the long hours Barry spent staring at the ceiling as he clung to his sanity while they ran their routine tests on him, the things they never bothered to film. Barry's family was in denial, but Holland knew the truth.

Barry would never truly heal from this.

* * *

They had lost track of how many videos they had watched. Iris had needed to cover her eyes for some of the gorier ones, but she had insisted that they keep watching. She needed to understand. She needed to do this for Barry. She needed to see this, so she could help him.

The last video that Caitlin clicked on was labeled ' _Log 123 Marburg Day 3_.' A woman wearing a full hazmat suit was visible on the screen, blocking Barry from view as she spoke to the camera.

"This is Dr. Mendes, the etiologist for experiment 227. We are on day three of the Marburg trials, and we have some interesting advancements."

When she stepped to the side to allow the camera a view of Barry, Caitlin and Iris gasped. Barry looked like hell. He seemed to be bleeding from every orifice. Blood was flowing from his mouth, nose, eyes and ears. His veins were all dark and visible through his translucent skin, long dark webs of blood vessels bulging out in his neck. He was clearly very sick.

"The Marburg virus," Caitlin said quietly.

"The what?" Iris asked her, her voice cracking slightly.

"It's arguably the deadliest virus in the world," Caitlin said, "Worse than ebola or any other disease you can think of. The survival rate is very low. Most people die from the hemorrhagic fever it produces. It makes all of your blood vessels leak, causing severe internal bleeding. It's a horrible way to go. It's downright ugly."

Barry started coughing, and more blood spewed from his mouth. He was covered in sweat and lines of dried blood streaked down his face. He looked like absolute hell.

"The subject has progressed to the later stages of the disease within a matter of days," Dr. Mendes continued, "It takes most victims weeks to reach the hemorrhagic stage for this particular strain, but it appears his immune system has sped up the process to work itself through the virus quicker. Whether or not this increases chances of survival, I don't know yet, but it could completely change the way we think about treating viral diseases."

Barry's eyes were starting to droop shut, but the doctor used her gloved fingers to pry them open and shine a light in them. Barry let out a sob in protest. The whites of his eyes were completely red, all the blood capillaries leaking blood.

"As I mentioned in my written report, his bloodwork indicates significant changes in viral structure and etiology. His unique immune response seems to have triggered some sort of mutation in the virus, making it potentially even more dangerous. It shows promising evidence that his body might be capable of synthesizing and incubating deadly superviruses for biological warfare."

"That's sick," Iris said angrily, "Eiling wanted to use Barry to create biological weapons?!"

"At this point, I don't think there's anything I would put past Eiling," Caitlin said, her stomach churning as she saw how sickly Barry looked on the video.

It didn't even look like him. They were using Barry's body as an incubation vessel for a deadly virus. That was almost worse than the surgeries.

"I think I've seen enough," Iris finally said in a drained voice, "I can't watch any more."

Caitlin nodded in understanding. She was a doctor, and even she was starting to feel a bit queasy from the surgeries and sick procedures they had watched over the last couple hours.

"There are hundreds of these," Caitlin said quietly, scrolling through all the files, "I can't even imagine…"

"I know," Iris said brokenly.

Her eyes felt itchy and dry from all the tears she had shed. She thought she would understand after watching the videos, but if they had done anything for her, it was to help her come to the realization that she would _never_ fully understand. None of them would ever even begin to understand everything Barry went through.

Here she had accused him of not coping well, but how the hell was somebody supposed to cope with _that_?! Nine weeks of continuous, unrelenting round-the-clock torture. _Nine weeks_. It was amazing Barry could even form a coherent thought and that he wasn't just completely insane after all of that. Most people would have been catatonic for the rest of their lives. Iris felt an ache in her heart as she finally considered the possibility that Barry might not ever fully come back from this.

He would never be her Barry again.

* * *

Like Joe had predicted, Barry wanted to take a shower shortly after eating. It made Cisco nervous, and he knocked on the bathroom door every five minutes or so to check on him. Barry seemed to be taking the longest shower known to man. He probably had to wait to shower every couple hours just because there wasn't enough hot water to stay in the shower all day. Otherwise he probably would have never left the shower at all.

Cisco knocked on the bathroom door for the fourth time. He had been in there for twenty-five minutes now. Cisco tentatively opened the door and stuck his head inside again. The room was filled with steam. Barry no doubt had the water on as hot as it would go.

"Hey, man," Cisco called into the bathroom, "Still doing okay?"

"Fine," Barry answered quietly from behind the shower curtain.

His voice almost sounded strained, though.

"Alright," Cisco said hesitantly before closing the door.

With a sigh, Cisco headed back down the stairs, thinking about how much he missed his best friend. He missed Barry, the _real_ Barry. He instantly felt guilty for thinking this way, though. It was selfish for him to be moping over the loss of his best friend when Barry was the one who was really suffering here.

Cisco tried to think of ways he could help bring Barry out of his post-suicidal stupor, but like always he was at a loss for what to do. It seemed like the only thing that would help was time, and at the moment, that didn't feel like nearly enough. He wanted to _do_ something, but there was nothing he could do to make this better. All they could do was wait and be there for Barry to support him as he worked through this.

It wasn't enough.

Cisco's thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he suddenly heard a loud thud above his head that had come from upstairs. He felt his blood run cold.

"Barry," Cisco said to himself before rushing up the stairs in a panic.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."—Shakespeare,** ** _The Tempest_**


	10. The Count of Monte Cristo

**The Count of Monte Cristo**

* * *

Barry knew he had the water on way too hot, but he didn't care. He didn't even care that it was scalding his skin. Anything was better than cold water. Whenever the water started to feel even a little bit cold to him, Barry would reluctantly leave the shower. He felt safer here somehow. The warm water falling down on him was like a security blanket covering him, protecting him from the horrors of the outside world.

The thoughts didn't completely go away here, though. They never fully went away. The memories haunted him every moment of every day, and even the comfort of a hot shower couldn't make him forget. In fact, they were more prominent here. He could scrub and scrub, but he could never simply wash away everything that had happened—everything that had been _done_ to him. There was no undoing this. There was only trying to move on.

Moving on was easier said than done, though. It was a simple concept. Move on. It was as simple as that. Just get over it. Move on. Try telling that to someone who had been gruesomely tortured for nine weeks, though. It wasn't that simple. He could still feel their touch, could feel the sting of a scalpel on his skin. He could feel their hands on him, and he could still hear their remorseless voices. Sometimes the voices sounded so clear and loud inside his head, he thought they were actually there. They sounded so real sometimes.

 _"_ _Stop fighting. You're only making this worse for yourself_."

Barry froze, his eyes snapping open as he stood still in the shower. It wasn't real. The voice was in his head like always. Still, it had sounded so close, though…

 _"_ _Hold his head still. I want to get this done so we can move on to our radiation experiments."_

Barry looked around and even pulled the shower curtain back to look around the room. He was alone. There wasn't anyone there. He knew that. But he could hear them. It wasn't like it was in his head. He could hear them clear as day as if they were there in the room with him. He forced himself to take a deep breath. It wasn't real. It was just the voices. He had heard them before. He knew they were just in his head. All he had to do was ignore them. They would go away if he just ignored them. The scientists weren't here, and they couldn't hurt him now unless he let them.

"Hey, man," Cisco's voice called into the room, causing him to jump slightly, "Still doing okay?"

Barry struggled just to get enough air into his lungs to answer.

"Fine," he managed to say, hoping his voice didn't sound too strained or shaky.

It was all he could get out. One word. He hoped it would be enough to placate Cisco. Joe and Iris were trickier. They knew him too well by now. They knew one word answers were never a good sign, coming from him. Cisco didn't.

Barry was relieved when Cisco left the room. He felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, and he didn't want Cisco to see that. Joe and Iris had witnessed quite a few of them already during the night when he had his nightmares, but he hadn't had another one during the day since that time at STAR Labs.

But he wasn't going to have a panic attack now. He could handle this. He could reason with himself, tell himself that it wasn't real. They were just voices. They couldn't hurt him. He knew that.

 _"_ _Can I get a gag for him? I need to concentrate so I don't nick an artery."_

Barry took another deep breath and did his best to ignore it. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. He was safe. He was alone now, and he was safe. He took several deep breaths to keep himself calm.

That all went to hell, though, when he suddenly felt someone touch his arm. Barry jerked away from the touch and spun around, but there was still no one there. He had imagined it. No one had touched him. He was fine. Barry gasped and spun again when he felt something or someone suddenly painfully grip his shoulder. Terrified, Barry pressed his back against the wall of the shower, his eyes darting around as he tried to get a grip on himself.

He was losing his damn mind.

He considered calling out to Cisco for help, but what would he tell him? Cisco would think he was crazy. Maybe he _was_ crazy. Barry's eyes burned with tears as he stood there in the shower, ignoring the water falling on him as he tried to slow his breathing. It was to no avail, though. He was already hyperventilating.

Barry sucked in a strangled breath of air when he suddenly felt a sharp pain slice through his arm. He held it up to look at it, and his eyes grew wide when he saw the large cut that had been made on his forearm. As he stared in horror at the blood starting to flow from the fresh wound, he gasped again when he felt another slice of pain. More cuts appeared near the first one, and Barry's panicked tears started to brim over as he looked at the blood now running down his arm.

He let out a muffled cry when he felt the same pain on his other arm, and he stared at both of his blood covered arms in horror. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. But it was. This wasn't just voices. He could _feel_ this. He could feel the actual pain from the wounds opening up all over his body now. So many cuts. So many hands on him, hurting him, cutting him, violating him. In a panic, Barry tried to get away from the contact, his foot slipping out from under him in the process. The next thing he knew, the shower floor was coming up to meet him.

* * *

When Cisco heard the loud thud from upstairs, he froze.

"Barry," he breathed to himself, and he was halfway up the stairs before he even realized he was moving.

When he reached the second floor landing, he could already hear the terrible screams coming from the bathroom. When Cisco threw the door open and entered, the screams seemed twice as loud, echoing around the small room.

Upon yanking back the shower curtain, Cisco faced what was probably the most pitiful sight he'd ever seen in his life. Barry was lying naked on the wet floor of the tub, his legs sliding out from under him and his arms thrashing as he screamed and fought desperately to get back up and water continued to fall down on him.

"Barry!" Cisco said, quickly turning off the water and kneeling down next to the tub, "Barry, it's alright!"

Barry looked at him, and for a moment Cisco thought it was going to be okay, but then he saw the pure terror in Barry's eyes, and Barry gasped in pain, letting out another scream.

Cisco's presence seemed to only frighten him further.

"Please don't!" Barry yelled, "Don't hurt me! Please stop cutting me!"

Cisco's heart sank.

"I'm not cutting you, Barry!" he said hurriedly, "I'm trying to help you!"

Barry swung out at him from where he laid, but Cisco easily avoided it. It served as a reminder, though, for him to keep his distance. Cisco cringed as he took in the situation. Barry was naked, soaking wet and now shivering, laying on a hard, cold surface. It couldn't have been more like the table. All that was really missing were the restraints.

Barry let out another cry of pain and tried to curl into himself as he laid on his side on the floor of the shower. Cisco grabbed the nearest towel and did his best to cover Barry's naked body.

"STOP!" Barry screamed so loudly it made Cisco's ears hurt, "Stop touching me!"

"I was just covering you, Barry," Cisco said frantically, "I won't touch you again, okay? I promise."

"That's too deep!" Barry cried hysterically, "That's too deep! You're cutting too deep! Please!"

"No one's cutting you, man," Cisco tried to tell him, but Barry seemed to be completely lost in his own world.

Whatever he thought was happening, it was completely real to him.

"Barry, it's me," he said soothingly, "It's Cisco."

Barry's screaming seemed to finally die out as he continued to gasp in pain. His entire body was trembling and tears were running down his face. Barry was trying to curl up tighter into himself, as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His breathing was out of control, and he continued to whimper in his panic.

"Barry, look at me," Cisco urged, "Look. It's just me. It's Cisco."

"Cisco," Barry whispered, a tear running down his face as he looked at the other man, "Cisco, help me. _Help me_."

"I've got you, man," Cisco assured him, "You're safe now. It's okay."

"They're cutting me," Barry tried to tell him in a shaky voice, "They're cutting into me, Cisco."

"No, they're not, Barry," Cisco told him, "Not anymore. Not ever again. They can't hurt you now."

Barry let out a sob and held out his arms to show Cisco.

"I'm bleeding," he cried, "There's so much blood. So much blood…so much blood."

For a terrible moment of dread, Cisco was worried that maybe Barry had hurt himself, but he didn't see any signs of injury on the frightened man.

"Barry, there's no blood," Cisco said gently, "There's no blood. Everything is fine. You just fell. You're going to be alright."

"I'm covered in it," Barry sobbed, running his hands over his arms, "I'm covered in blood."

"It's just water, Barry," Cisco said, reaching for another towel, "Come on. I'll help you dry off."

Barry flinched away from him when he reached out with the towel. His breathing was still out of control. Barry was full-on hyperventilating now.

"Can you sit up, Barry?" Cisco asked, "I think it would help if you sat up. Here, let me help you."

Barry squeezed his eyes shut but then nodded. With a gentle hand from Cisco, Barry was able to get into a sitting position, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms protectively around them as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"Better?" Cisco asked.

Barry nodded slightly, but his hands were still shaking. Still, his eyes looked a little clearer now. He had his back to the wall of the shower, his hands clinging desperately to the towel draping him.

"Please don't tell everyone else about this," Barry said after a moment, as he started to come back to his senses.

"Barry, I…"

" _Please_ ," Barry said, "I don't want everyone to think I'm crazy."

"We know you're not, man," Cisco told him.

Barry hung his head down, resting his forehead on his knees.

"Do you still see it?" Cisco asked him quietly after a moment, "The blood? Do you still see it?"

Barry lifted his head and looked down at his arms and legs before looking back to Cisco with watery eyes. He nodded.

"I can feel it, too," he said wearily, "I can feel the cuts. It all seems so real."

"You understand that you're hallucinating, though, right Barry?" Cisco said gently, "You know that it's not real? That there's not really any blood?"

A small sob escaped Barry's lips as he nodded and looked down again.

"I'm losing my damn mind," he cried.

"No, Bar," Cisco said soothingly, "Caitlin told us to expect this. The flashbacks are a normal reaction to everything that happened to you. It's just your brain trying to work through everything. It doesn't make you crazy."

"Why would my brain do that to me?" Barry asked quietly, "Why would it make me relive all of this? I just want it to be over. I want to move on."

"I know, Barry," Cisco said, "I know."

"What's wrong with me?" Barry cried.

"Nothing's wrong with you," Cisco said in a comforting voice, "You've been through a lot, Barry."

"Please don't let me go crazy, Cisco," Barry cried, "Please don't give up on me."

"Never, Barry," Cisco choked, tears forming in his eyes, " _Never_."

* * *

When Iris got home from STAR Labs, she didn't know what to do. A part of her didn't even want to see Barry after what she had seen on the videos. It was too much, and she had only seen a _few_ of them. There were still hundreds more that she hadn't watched. She doubted she would ever look at Barry the same way again, and that killed her. A stronger part of her wanted to go see him right away, wanted to hug him and cuddle him, to wrap her arms around him and protect him from all the evils in this world. That is, if she thought a hug would help him. It probably wouldn't.

When she finally made her way up the stairs, Iris entered Barry's room to find Cisco in there, sitting in a chair next to the bed while Barry slept.

"Hey," Iris said to Cisco as she walked further into the room to stand next to Barry's bed.

Then she saw the tear tracks dried onto Barry's face. She looked questioningly at Cisco.

"He's exhausted," Cisco told her, "He had a panic attack an hour ago, and he's completely worn out by it."

"Did he have another nightmare?" she asked him, staring at Barry's face.

"No," Cisco said quietly, "He was awake when it came on. He was in the shower."

Cisco sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"He didn't want me to tell you guys this, but you should know," he said seriously, "He had another flashback. He was hallucinating that he was back in the lab again."

Iris let out a shaky sigh as she looked away from Cisco and back to Barry's broken face.

"What triggered it this time?" she asked, thinking about the incident at STAR Labs when Caitlin had tried to draw blood from Barry.

"Nothing," Cisco answered quietly, "At least, I think it was nothing. There wasn't anything different that happened to cause it. It just sort of happened. Out of the blue, he just started hallucinating."

"It just happened?" she asked worriedly, "For no reason? It just happened?"

Cisco nodded.

"Barry's pretty freaked out by it. He's convinced he's losing his mind. He's scared."

"With good reason," Iris muttered, thinking of the videos.

She couldn't imagine having to relive all of that, both in his dreams every night and now even in his waking hours. If she were Barry, she'd be terrified and confused, too.

"He's not going to want to talk about it," Cisco told her seriously, "When he wakes up, he's not going to want to talk."

"I know," she said sadly.

Iris understood now. She understood why Barry wouldn't want to talk about it. How could someone even begin to talk about the things he had been through? Iris felt a weight of guilt in her chest when she thought about all the pressing she had done. She had thought she was being gentle about it, but now she realized just how much pressure she had been putting on Barry to talk about his experience. She felt terrible for it.

She knew what she had to do now. She had to give him time and space. All any of them could really do is wait and hope and be there for him. As frustrating as it was to not be able to do more, they knew that's what would be best for Barry, and he would eventually start to work his way back to them. He would eventually start to try again.

That moment didn't come until another week later. Iris was just thinking that maybe she should go upstairs to check on Barry soon when she walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the kitchen table.

"Barry," she said in surprise.

He looked up at her with a blank expression.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, surprised that he was sitting in here, his usual glass of water sitting in front of him.

He rarely ever came downstairs, even for meals. He usually never left his room. He shook his head in response to her question.

"Can I get you anything?" she persisted, trying to figure out why he was sitting in here.

"Could you—?" he started but seemed at a loss for words.

He sighed once before speaking in a small voice.

"Could you please get me a pen and paper? I—I think I'm ready to try again."

Iris stared at him in shock for a moment but recovered quickly, smiling widely at him.

"Sure, Barry," she said softly.

As she went to grab him a pen and paper, Iris couldn't stop smiling to herself. She was trying to stay calm and not make a big deal out of it, but it was a big step for him. He was going to start making an effort to recover again. It was a sign that Barry might actually start to hope again, and that was a very big deal for him after the last few weeks of hopelessness he had been through after his almost-suicide attempt. He was starting to come back again.

"Don't worry," Barry said quietly when she set the paper in front of him, "I won't run away this time. I'm done running away."

Iris smiled proudly at him, and although Barry didn't quite smile back, she thought she maybe saw a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

Over time, everyone started to notice small improvements with Barry. He didn't spend as much time in his room. He joined them for meals again, and he even started to participate in their conversations. Usually it was just a word or two every now and again, but it was better than silence.

Barry definitely still hadn't gotten over his aversion to being touched. He still flinched any time anyone accidentally made contact with him, but he didn't lean away as much when they got close to him, which was something. He seemed to finally be getting used to their presence around him, and he was slowly starting to trust them not to hurt him.

He didn't hallucinate again, at least not during the day. He still had his nightmares almost every night, but he didn't have any more breaks with reality during his waking hours. At least, not that any of them could see. His panic attacks went back to only happening at night, at least for now. They still hadn't quite figured out what had triggered his flashback when he was in the shower, and for that reason, they were all scared it could happen again at any moment, but at least for now, Barry seemed to be mentally stable.

"Hey, Bar," Joe said, entering his bedroom.

Barry was sitting at his desk, reading a book. He seemed to be reading a lot now days. TV didn't really do it for him, and he seemed to be relying on books to distract himself now. He said they occupied his mind more. Joe and Iris knew Barry was using books as an avoidance mechanism, but they felt better seeing him sitting in his room reading than they did when he was just lying in bed staring at the wall. This was definitely a step up from that.

"What are you reading this time?" Joe asked in amusement.

Barry closed the book and silently handed it to Joe, who looked down at the cover. _The Count of Monte Cristo_. Barry's favorite. The book was huge and the spine of it was completely worn down from how many times he had read it.

"Again?" Joe asked incredulously, "You really like this one, don't you?"

Barry nodded.

"I read it back in high school," he said quietly, "But I didn't fully understand it until now."

"I don't know how you understand this at all," Joe said in an astonished voice.

The book had been written in the 1800s by some French author, and as Joe flipped through the pages, he hardly understood a single paragraph. The book seemed a bit dry if you asked him.

"What's it about?"

Barry hesitated as he thought about it.

"Second chances," he said quietly after a moment.

Joe contemplated his vague answer for a moment before nodding and handing the book back to Barry.

"Dinner will be here soon," he said with a small smile, "I ordered in. Pizza."

Barry nodded and the corners of his mouth turned up a bit.

"Pizza _s_?" he asked, emphasizing the pluralization of the word.

Joe laughed.

"Yep," he answered, "Pepperoni, olives, and jalapenos. Just the way you like it."

"Thanks, Joe," Barry said warmly.

Joe smiled at him and then made to leave the room. When he turned back to the doorway to look at Barry, it was to see that he had already reopened the book, intently flipping through the pages to pick up where he had left off.


	11. A Big Little Thing

**A Big Little Thing**

* * *

Death would have been easy for Barry. It was simple. An easy out. Peaceful.

Life was much harder. When he had been on the table, it had seemed like there were only two options available to him: suffer for the rest of his life while being mutilated by a bunch of scientists…or die. Going home was a third option that hadn't seemed available to him. It was a path he had no longer considered by the time he was rescued.

But now, here he was, sitting in his kitchen watching Iris make pancakes while humming to herself. He was home. The shock of it, of being free, had somewhat worn off at this point, but now it left Barry with a predicament. Now he had to recover. Death would have been so much easier. What was harder was trying—the effort he had to put in to make things go back to normal again.

It would take a lot of work and a hell of a lot of patience, but Barry finally felt ready to put forth the effort. He was ready to take back what was his, to take back everything that had been taken from him. He was going to get his life back. He was going to make things normal again. Barry was going to pursue normalcy as if his life depended on it.

"Do you want some help with that?" Barry asked Iris suddenly.

She looked up from the batter she was mixing and smiled at him in surprise.

"Sure, Barry," she said happily.

Barry closed the book he had been reading and set it on the table as he rose to help her.

"Here," she said, holding out a mixing spoon to him, "You stir while I add the mix."

Barry reached out and took the spoon from her. She helped him curl his fingers around it before letting go. His grip on it was shaky, but he managed to make it work. He was getting slightly better with his hands now, something that Barry seemed somewhat happy about, as long as they didn't mention writing. He still hadn't managed to gain enough control to write yet.

"Aren't you supposed to measure that?" Barry asked her in amusement when she started to just add random amounts of the pancake mix to the bowl as he stirred.

"Nah," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "As long as we get the consistency right, who needs measuring cups?"

She laughed lightly, and Barry managed a small laugh, a small puff of air from his chest. Iris pursed her lips in thought as she watched him. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to do that. He didn't have to fake a laugh or a smile with her. When he laughed, she wanted it to be real. She didn't want fake smiles. She wanted him to be himself, however he was feeling.

She didn't say anything, though. She didn't want to discourage him from trying. A few weeks ago, Barry wouldn't have even bothered trying to fake a laugh. He wouldn't have even cracked a smile, even if it was just for her benefit. At least now he was smiling, even if it was forced and not at all real.

"I'm meeting Linda for lunch today," Iris told Barry gently, trying not to sound too pushy, "Any chance you'd want to—?"

"I'm not ready yet, Iris," Barry said immediately, cutting her off.

Iris clasped her mouth shut, not wanting to push him.

"Sorry," he added quickly, "I know you want me to get out of the house, but I'm…"

"I understand, Bar," she said softly, "You're not ready. It's okay. I don't want to push you to go out in public if you're not ready yet. That's the last thing I want to do."

Barry nodded gratefully and then changed the subject.

"So how have things been at the CCPN?" he asked her, changing the conversation to be about Iris's work.

He was happy that she seemed to have fully adjusted back into her job now. She had gotten her life fully back together after spending nine weeks being held captive in that facility. Barry just hoped that with time he would be able to do the same. Yes, trying was hard, but hopefully it would all be worth it in the end.

* * *

"You're doing so good, Barry," Caitlin said supportively through the intercom.

"I can't be here much longer," Barry said in a shaky voice.

"Just two more minutes," Caitlin assured him, "Try to stay still."

Barry tried his best to stay still in the MRI machine. Caitlin said he didn't have to do this if it was too much for him, but he had insisted he could handle it. He was starting to regret that now. He wasn't strapped down, but it was hard knowing he wasn't supposed to move. At least he _could_ move, if he wanted to, and that thought was what kept him from panicking.

Barry squeezed his eyes shut and waited for it to be over. It was over in just two more minutes, like Caitlin had told him, but to Barry it felt like an eternity.

"You did amazing, Bar," Joe praised as Barry sat up from the MRI table.

He seemed to be in a hurry to stand, but Caitlin urged him to stay sitting. He was extremely pale and looked like he was almost about to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Caitlin asked him.

"I feel sick," he said, putting a hand over his face, "Laying down like that for so long. It…"

"I understand, Barry," Caitlin said knowingly.

She had seen the videos of what they did to Barry when they were taking MRIs. They would strap him down tightly, securing not only his arms and legs, but also his head, neck and torso. They also injected him with several drugs to keep him still and then would leave him in the machine for hours while they took their scans. Caitlin was surprised by how willingly he had agreed to the MRI now. He seemed to be trying to prove to them and himself that he was getting better, but judging by the ill look on his face, he had taken on more than he could handle at the moment.

"You should lay back, Barry," Caitlin said worriedly, "You really don't look well."

Barry shook his head quickly.

"Laying down will make it worse," he breathed.

Caitlin nodded understandingly. They all averted their eyes, trying not to stare at Barry as he calmed himself down. He always hated it when they stared at him, especially when he was like this.

"Okay, what next?" Barry finally said after a couple minutes when his breathing was back under control.

"I think that's enough for today, Barry," Caitlin said gently, "I don't want to overdo it and put you through too much at once."

"What next?" Barry repeated insistently, a determined look on his face.

Caitlin glanced nervously at the others before answering him.

"Well, I really wanted to get your weight today to see how you're doing. I can see you've managed to gain a little weight back now, but a number to go off of would be good, too."

"Okay," Barry said, standing up, "Let's go then."

"Hang on, dude," Cisco said worriedly, "You should sit back down—give yourself more time."

"I'm good now, Cisco," Barry insisted.

"He's right, Bar," Joe said, "Just give yourself a minute. There's no reason to rush it."

"Guys," Barry said in exasperation, "It's just my weight. I think I can handle standing on a scale."

Barry wished they would just let him move on to the next thing. He wanted to quickly move on from the MRI machine before he started to think about it too much again. Instead, they wanted him to sit here and process everything and work through it all slowly. Really, all Barry wanted to do was keep moving along and put as much space between himself and the MRI machine as possible, even if that meant letting Caitlin take his weight.

"Barry," Iris said seriously, "You were on the verge of a panic attack just now. You need to take it slowly, or you're going to push yourself over the edge, and the last thing we want is to undo all the progress you've made."

Barry stared sadly at her for a moment.

"I don't want to be weak," he said in a small voice.

"You're not weak, Barry," Caitlin said firmly, "You don't need to worry about proving anything to us. You've been so strong already. It's okay to take your time. It's okay to pace yourself through all of this."

"I can handle this," Barry said quietly, "Please, I can handle this."

"We know you can, Bar," Joe said, "We know."

Barry was starting to feel frustrated by all of this. He was trying to get better, but he felt like his friends and family were sometimes getting in the way of that, despite how much they were trying to help. Having them treat him like he was this weak, broken thing only made him feel more weak and broken. He wished they would just treat him normally. If they just acted like things were back to normal, then maybe they would start to actually _be_ normal again.

Being treated like a victim only made Barry feel more like a victim. He didn't want that. He wanted to be treated like Barry.

After they were certain Barry had fully calmed down after the MRI, Caitlin finally led him over to the scale. Barry always got strangely nervous every time he stepped up onto the scale. He knew his weight played a huge role in his physical recovery, and although he had gained some of the weight back, he still had quite a ways to go just to get back into the normal weight range, let alone where he was before. Right now, he was still considered to be in the 'severely underweight' range.

"Okay, Barry," Caitlin said quietly, "You can step down now."

She didn't say the number. She never offered up the number. She only said it out loud if Barry asked. He didn't feel like asking today. He could tell by the look on Caitlin's face that he hadn't gained as much as she had hoped. She gave him a small, forced smile, but Barry saw right through it. He knew she was disappointed in him. She had to be.

"Are you still doing okay, Barry?" Caitlin asked in concern, surveying his face for any signs of anxiety.

Barry nodded.

"I'm fine," he said.

"There's just one more thing I wanted to do today," Caitlin said in an unsure voice, "Only if you're ready. It might be too soon to try this again."

Barry tensed, knowing where this was going.

"You need another blood sample," he said quietly.

Caitlin nodded nervously.

"Only if you think you're ready," she said, "Really it can wait a few more days. You've done so much today already, and you've done so well. I understand if a blood draw would be too much."

"I can't," Barry said immediately.

They all were somewhat surprised. Up until now they had been constantly reminding Barry to pace himself and not take on too much. It took them off guard a bit to have him suddenly admitting that something was too much for him.

"I can't," he said again, "The needles. I…"

"It's okay, Barry," Caitlin said quickly, "If a blood draw is too much for you, then it can wait."

"It's just…" he said, looking around at all of them, "I want you all to understand why. You don't know what it was like with the needles. They were so…rough."

Barry didn't really want to talk about it, but he knew it was important that he start talking about these things, and he truly wanted them to understand. He knew his fear was irrational, but he wanted them to somewhat understand it.

"They were constantly injecting me with things," he continued, "Constantly taking new samples, starting new IVs. They would dig around in my veins for what felt like an eternity, trying to find a good spot. I'm just…so sick of needles. I know you would think that after all of that, I would be used to them by now, but really, just the idea of a needle in me again makes me sick. It makes my skin crawl just to think about it."

"It's okay, Barry," Iris said supportively, "You'll get there. Don't try to rush it."

"We understand, Barry," Caitlin added, "You don't have to do the blood draw if you don't want to. It's not entirely necessary right now, and we can wait a few more days to try again if you want."

Barry nodded gratefully, glad they understood and were being so supportive. He just wished he was stronger for them.

After that, he was allowed to go home. They all told him what a good job he had done and how proud of him they were, but Barry felt like he didn't deserve their praise. He was still too weak to face a stupid needle. What was wrong with him?! He had faced far worse when he was on the table. A needle should be like nothing to him.

He should feel good about today. He had made it through almost an entire checkup without panicking. But he _didn't_ feel good about it. He felt like a failure, and he felt like such a coward every time he thought about the fact that he would have to go back in a couple days to face that needle. He felt so angry, both with himself and with the scientists for turning him into such a weak, pathetic thing.

Barry sometimes wanted to just slip back into the numb stupor he was in before, but he knew that would be counterproductive. He knew he had to face these feelings head-on now. He needed to work towards moving on from them. The only problem was that he _couldn't_ move on. He could never move on, not with the way things were now.

They were all still out there. All the scientists: the doctors, who had tortured him with their trials; the guards, who threatened to hurt his family; General Eiling, who had orchestrated the whole thing. They all were still walking free, unpunished for what they had done to him. Barry had eventually managed to call Felicity. It took him quite a while to dial the number, but he managed it, and he was met with disappointment.

"Of course I've been looking, Barry," Felicity told him, "And I've found some information. I just…"

"You just what, Felicity?"

"I just don't know if giving it to you is a good idea," she said quietly, "What if I sent what I've found to your team? They can help you decide what to do with it. They can help you do what you need to do to stop these people from hurting anyone else."

"No," Barry said immediately, "Don't send it to them."

Barry didn't know what he planned to do, but he knew one thing: he didn't want his friends and family to have any part in it. He wanted to keep them as far away from this as possible.

"Why, Barry?" Felicity asked in a confused voice, "They could help you."

"I want them safe," Barry said firmly, "Please, Felicity, don't involve them in this."

"Well, do you want the Arrow's help?" she asked, "I saw Oliver's face when he rescued you. He was so angry, Barry. He's been really quiet about the whole thing ever since, but I can tell it's still eating at him, what happened to you. I'm sure he'd go after these people in a heartbeat if you asked him to."

"No," Barry said, "I want to do this myself."

"Barry, I can't let you do that," Felicity said reluctantly, "I can't let you do this alone. It's not healthy. You should let the rest of us help you so you can focus on your recovery."

Barry paused for a long time as he thought over her words. He realized it then. She wasn't going to help him, not in the way he wanted. She wasn't going to help him get justice on his terms, and there was no point in arguing with her about it.

"Thank you, Felicity, for all the work you've put into this," he said in a strained voice, "I can see that you're not going to send me the information, so just keep it then. I'll do this myself."

"Barry…" she said in a hurt voice.

"I'm not mad," Barry assured her, "I understand why you don't want to send it to me. I can figure it out on my own."

He hung up before she could argue with him. He didn't think he could stand any more arguing. He would have to do this alone, and honestly, that's the way he preferred it. It would have been easier with Felicity's help, but Barry was smart, too. He wasn't the best, like Felicity, but he could find them. He _would_ find them. He had seen their faces, memorized their voices. He even knew a lot of their names.

He would find them.

* * *

Barry was sick of this. He didn't need a babysitter. Did they really think he was still going to hurt himself? Or maybe they really did think he was crazy. Either way, they never left him alone. They always had to have someone to be there at the house with him. Barry stood outside the kitchen, listening to Joe and Iris discuss it, thinking he couldn't hear them.

"I could just call in," Joe said, "Singh knows the situation with Barry. I'm sure he'd give me the day off. He's been so understanding already, though, and I don't want to push it."

"I'm sure Cisco or Caitlin wouldn't mind coming over," Iris pointed out, "We should just give them a call."

"I don't want to ask them to do that again," Joe said reluctantly, "They've spent so much time here already."

"They want to, though, dad," Iris insisted, "They want to help Barry, too."

Barry couldn't take it anymore, and he decided to make his presence known.

"You know, you could just leave me home alone," he said, entering the kitchen.

Joe and Iris both looked uncomfortably at him, embarrassed at being caught talking about him like this.

"We can't do that, Bar," Joe said, "Not yet. I know you're doing better, but…"

"But you don't trust me," Barry said flatly.

"No, Barry!" Iris said quickly, "It's not that at all. We just don't want anything to happen while we're gone."

"What's going to happen?" Barry asked in frustration, "I haven't been getting panic attacks lately; I promise not to shower with no one here, so you don't have to worry about me slipping; I'm walking a lot better now, so you don't have to worry about me falling down the stairs or something; and I promise, I don't plan to…hurt myself or anything. If I still wanted to do that, I would have done it already, and we all know it."

Joe and Iris flinched at his words, but they knew he was right. It seemed unlikely that Barry was going to do anything harmful to himself now, and if he were, there wouldn't have been much that they could do to stop him anyways.

"We know, Barry," Joe said sadly, "But it's still a little too soon to be leaving you on your own. Really, anything could happen. Last time you had a flashback, it came out of nowhere without any warning. If that happened again and we weren't here with you, it would be horrible. I just don't feel comfortable leaving you alone just yet."

Barry sighed. He understood where Joe was coming from—he really did. It didn't make it all any less frustrating, though.

"Fine," he said, "What if I spent the day at STAR Labs instead?"

Joe and Iris blinked at him in surprise.

"STAR Labs?" Iris said, "You would want to go there? Spend the day there?"

Barry nodded, but his expression didn't look very sure.

"I've been thinking, and I think it's about time I start getting used to being there again. The more time I spend there, the more comfortable I'll be, and maybe then the next time I have a checkup…"

"You won't be as nervous," Iris finished for him.

Barry nodded, and Joe and Iris both gave him a small smile before looking at each other.

"I guess I don't see why not," Joe said with a shrug.

Iris nodded in hesitant agreement. Really, there was no reason not to take Barry to STAR Labs, especially if he, himself, was asking to go there. Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to the lab.

"Are you sure about this, Barry?" Iris asked as they walked him into the lab.

Barry nodded.

"I'll be fine, guys," he assured them, "If it's too much for me, Cisco or Caitlin could always take me home and stay with me there. I'll be fine."

Joe and Iris still looked a little nervous, but they were reassured all the same. They smiled proudly at him before they left, and Barry got into the elevator to go up to the cortex. He felt a slight twinge of guilt. If he was being honest, Barry had a bit of an ulterior motive for wanting to go to STAR Labs. He knew he would be able to find out more about the scientists using the STAR Labs equipment than he would from his laptop at home. He particularly wanted to use the lab's facial recognition software to locate a few of them.

He knew he would have to be careful about how he did it. He didn't want the others to catch on to what he was doing. Cisco and Caitlin watched him closely on that first day in STAR Labs, and Barry decided not to try anything right away. He would have to wait until they weren't breathing down his neck all the time. Hopefully, the more time he spent there, the more space they would give him.

Barry brought a few books with him to keep himself busy, and he spent his first couple days at STAR Labs reading while Cisco and Caitlin continued their work nearby. He did his best to ignore their constant glances at him. To Caitlin's delight, he occasionally allowed her to help him with his theraband exercises to help him rebuild muscle and gain back his strength. She didn't press him to do any medical tests while he was there, though. They didn't want Barry to associate STAR Labs as a place only for medical tests. They wanted it to be a place of refuge for him, too. A second home, like it had always been before everything that happened.

Barry waited a few days before going on the computers. He didn't start his research right away, but instead starting working on a separate project, giving off the impression that he was using the computers for that instead. His ruse proved to be a smart move because it didn't take long for the other two to get curious and ask about what he was doing.

"Watcha working on, Barry?" Cisco asked one day, standing on the other side of the desk in the cortex.

"Nothing," Barry said dismissively, "It's stupid. Just something to distract myself. I'm getting sick of just reading all the time."

"Well, maybe if you weren't constantly reading the same books," Cisco said in amusement, looking at the handful of books Barry had brought along with him, _The Count of Monte Cristo_ being amongst them.

Cisco walked around the desk to look at Barry's computer screen, furrowing his eyebrows when he saw what was on it.

"What did you say you were working on again?" he asked, looking at the data Barry had in front of him.

"It's just a dumb project," Barry said, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "It's a simulation software program, similar to the ones that already exist. I'm just trying to improve it. The program would do more for you than just run simulations. It would factor in and process every scenario you run through it, and it would tell you the best solution for each scenario it's given."

Cisco looked interestingly at the binary coding for Barry's project, furrowing his eyebrows even more.

"So, it would make judgement calls?" he asked curiously, "Dude, that's seriously cool."

Cisco laughed and turned his eyes away from the screen to smile at Barry. Barry's lips twitched in return.

"Like I said," Barry replied, "It's just something to keep me busy."

Cisco asked Barry if he wanted any help with designing the program, but Barry politely declined, assuring Cisco that it wasn't going anywhere, and it was just a silly project to keep himself occupied. That part was a complete lie. It was true that he didn't plan to go anywhere with the project, but it served a different purpose than what he told Cisco. The project gave Barry an excuse to use the STAR Labs computers for hours on end with little questioning from anyone else, and it wasn't long before Barry was finally working on what he really wanted to.

Finding them.

Barry didn't always just work on his personal vendetta when he was in the lab. Much of his time was actually spent trying to recover. He was actually starting to build some muscle again, and his core strength had improved tremendously. Before, he had a hard time just sitting up by himself. Now he was actually starting to even see abs forming again. His arms and legs were also gradually increasing in size and strength. He no longer looked like a walking skeleton, at least. Sure, he still looked too skinny, but it wasn't the grotesque, severely malnourished kind of skinny like before. He looked more wiry now, instead of emaciated.

With progress in his strength also came progress in his speed. Now that Barry had gotten his weight up and was somewhat healthy again, Caitlin was allowing him to run again. He was only allowed to run on the treadmill with someone watching to start. Barry didn't even mind the conditions, though. He was _running_! After nine weeks of laying on a table, unable to move even his limbs, he was now running. It felt like heaven. It felt like freedom. It felt like he was finally, _finally_ getting his life back together again.

There were some things, however, that hadn't come back to him yet. His laugh was one of them. Barry had uttered countless laughs now since being rescued, and not a single one of them was real. He wanted them to be—he really did—but they just weren't. Every single one of them was forced and fabricated, and he felt like his friends and family all knew it, too. He figured it was only a matter of time until one of them was real, though. It would come back to him, just like everything else would. He just had to be patient, a task that the fastest man alive often had difficulty with.

Barry took a deep breath, trying to stay patient and collected as he brought the pen back down to the paper for what felt like the hundredth time. He failed miserably at it, his rage and frustration starting to get the better of him within minutes. He had been at it for a half hour now and still had nothing to show for it. Not one letter. Barry let out an angry sigh when the pen slipped again, further trying his patience. He heard Cisco quietly approach him to stand next to the desk in the cortex, hunching over—although not too closely—to see the paper.

Barry blushed with embarrassment and shame when Cisco looked at the page of scribbles he had produced. Trying to ignore the person leaning over his shoulder, watching, Barry tried again. He felt his eyes burn with tears when the pen slipped again. And again. And again. He felt awful. He felt like a complete failure. Anger, frustration, embarrassment, and hopelessness seemed to settle like a weight in his chest.

"You've got this, man," Cisco said softly, trying to be supportive, knowing that Barry was starting to get worked up as his hand kept spasming and dragging the pen sloppily across the page.

"Fuck," Barry said when the shaking in his hands only grew worse.

The more worked up he got, the harder it was for him.

"Here, Barry," Cisco said, reaching over to tear the messy, scribbled page away, giving Barry a fresh new blank page, "Take a deep breath."

Barry did as he was told, trying to blink back his tears and clear his mind. It helped a little.

"You're rushing it," Cisco said gently. "You're overthinking. Writing is just a shape your hand makes. Here, try this."

Cisco helped reposition the pen in Barry's hand and slid the page closer to him.

"Close your eyes, Barry," Cisco said quietly, "Don't think about it. Close your eyes and just kind of…dance it."

Barry took a deep, shaky breath before closing his eyes. He slowly brought the pen back down to the paper. Without opening his eyes or thinking too much about it, he let the pen glide along the surface of the page. He let his muscle memory take over, thinking of the countless times in his life he had written his name before.

"Barry," Cisco said quietly after a moment.

Barry opened his eyes. Cisco was grinning at him. He looked down at the page to see his name staring back at him. It was sloppy, and looked like a first grader had written it, but it very clearly said 'Barry.'

Barry let out a half laugh, half sob when he saw it. He looked back at Cisco with tears in his eyes as his mouth stretched into a wide grin, one that actually didn't feel painful on his face.

"Thank you, Cisco," Barry choked, blinking back tears as he looked at what he had accomplished.

He laughed again. It was small, but it was real. A real laugh actually escaped his lips as he looked at the page and saw what he had done. It was such a small thing. All he really had done was write his name, something he had done countless times before in the past. It really was such a little thing.

But it was a very big little thing.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Once again, the writing scene was inspired by a scene in the show** ** _Skins_** **.**


	12. A Couple Glasses of Water

**A Couple Glasses of Water**

* * *

"How has he been today?" Joe asked one afternoon after work when he and Iris came to pick Barry up from STAR Labs.

"Good," Caitlin answered happily, "He spent most of the day working on his simulation software project. It's been really good for keeping him occupied. He's running on the treadmill right now. Cisco's in there with him."

"How has his running been?" Iris asked curiously, "Is his speed coming back more?"

"I've been making him keep the running to a minimum for now, but Barry has almost all of his speed back now," Caitlin told them, "Really, he's almost fully recovered. He could stand to gain a little more weight and he'll always have his scars, but otherwise he's almost fully healed now."

"That's fantastic," Joe said in relief.

He and Iris both smiled at each other.

"I just wish there was more I could do for him," Caitlin said sadly, " _Mentally_ , I mean. Unfortunately, you can't patch a wounded soul with a band aid. It's going to take him a lot more time to heal psychologically from everything he's been through. It took nine weeks to tear him down, but it's going to take a lot longer to build him back up again. It could take years, and he still might not be the same."

"He's been making good progress, though," Joe assured her, "He doesn't seem as fearful and mistrustful around us now as he was when we first got him back. He's slowly getting better."

"There are times, though," Iris said sadly, "When I can see through the happy front he puts up for all of us. He's still so broken, and I wish I could do more to help."

Joe and Caitlin nodded sadly in agreement.

"I just wish I could at least give him a hug to make him feel better," Iris said bitterly, "But I can't. He's still afraid of everyone's touch now. I've been waiting for him to get past that fear, but I don't know if he ever will."

"Well, think about it," Caitlin said seriously, "For nine straight weeks, every touch to Barry meant pain. There was never any comfort or love. No compassion or mercy. Only cruelty and more pain. Whenever another person laid a hand on him, it was to hurt him. If I were Barry, I would probably never want to be touched again either."

Joe let out an angry sigh.

"I could kill Eiling," he said angrily, "For everything he did to Barry, for making him this way. We need to take that man down. We can't let him get away with all that he's done."

"I agree," Caitlin said nervously, "But I don't know how we're going to do that yet. Eiling just seems so…untouchable. I have Felicity keeping tabs on him. She said he's in D.C. now, but if he decides to come back to Central City, she'll warn us right away. We need to be ready in case he decides to make another play at Barry."

"Do you think that's going to happen?" Iris asked in a scared voice, "You really think Eiling would try to abduct Barry again?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Joe said darkly, "I'm sure he plans to do it again. He's probably just getting his ducks in a row right now before he makes his move."

"You're right," Caitlin said, nodding seriously, "After Oliver broke into the lab and took out several of their guards along the way, the whole system fell apart. Felicity told me all the employees working for Eiling fled and scattered. She didn't tell me where any of them are now, though. Now that I think about it, she actually didn't really send me any real information. She just kind of told me the gist of everything that's going on. She seemed reluctant to say more for some reason."

"Well, we need to figure out how to stay one step ahead of Eiling," Joe said, "Did Felicity say what he's been doing? Is he building up another research facility?"

"She suspects he is," Caitlin affirmed, "Some place in Montana called Black Creek, but she hasn't been able to get a lot of information about it. It's likely, though, that Eiling won't try to move in on Barry again until he's sure his facility is fully up and running and that the Arrow isn't going to get in his way again, not to mention the CCPD, now that its captain knows the whole truth about everything. Too many people know now, and that's a lot of people he'd have to abduct just to pull something like that off again. He might never make a move to take Barry again. It's too complicated."

"Well, we can't rely on that logic, though," Joe said, "We have to keep Barry safe, and we have to be ready in case Eiling tries to take him again. We can't let that happen. If Barry were to get taken again…"

Joe sighed heavily. The thought of Barry going through all of that a second time too much for him to bear. Barry wouldn't survive that.

"We need to strike first," Joe said firmly, "We can't just stay here like sitting ducks waiting for Eiling to make the first move."

"How are we going to do that?" Iris asked, "How are we supposed to take him down?"

"I'll talk to the captain," Joe said, "Find out what our options are. There has to be a way we can apprehend him publicly, expose him for his crimes. If we have enough proof, maybe we can take him down. At the very least, we can tarnish his reputation. Even if he isn't punished legally for it, we could still make him a public enemy for his crimes."

"Guys," Caitlin said, her eyes widening and her head nodding to the side.

They looked just in time to see Barry and Cisco walk in. All of them had agreed to keep quiet and to leave Barry out of all this until they knew what they were going to do exactly. They didn't want him to obsess. It wouldn't be good for him or his recovery. He had actually been surprisingly quiet about the whole thing. He hadn't even mentioned the scientists for a couple weeks now, and they were starting to wonder if maybe he had just given up on the whole prospect of finding them.

Little did they know, Barry had been actively searching for them every day. He had found quite a few of them and was meticulously keeping tabs on them with an obsession. Some he still had yet to locate, and there was one person who seemed to have completely disappeared off the face of the earth. Dr. Holland. Barry hadn't found anything concerning where she might be. He hadn't heard even a whisper of her. It's like she simply disappeared into thin air, and it was driving him crazy. He wasn't worried, though. He would find her. He had vowed he would find all of them, no matter how long it took. If he had learned anything from Eobard Thawne last year, it was that the best plans take time. Patience was key when it came to exacting your revenge on someone, and Barry would be patient. He had already waited this long.

"Are you guys ready to go?" Barry asked them, giving them a small smile.

Joe and Iris both looked at each other, somewhat uneasy.

"What's wrong?" Barry asked, sensing something was up.

"Nothing," Joe answered quickly, "It's just…"

"My dad and I were thinking maybe we could try going out to eat tonight," Iris said quickly, "Only if you're up for it, of course."

Barry seemed to recoil slightly at the idea, his face betraying his reluctance.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Bar," Joe added quickly, "We just thought it might be good for you to try going out in public once. If you're not ready for that, it's okay."

"No," Barry said, "No, it's okay. We can go."

"Are you sure?" Iris asked, "We don't want to overwhelm you. If you don't feel ready, we'll understand."

"It's okay," Barry assured her, "I have to go somewhere other than home and STAR Labs eventually. I think I'm ready to give it a try."

Joe and Iris smiled proudly at Barry. He really was making a tremendous effort lately to recover, not just physically, but emotionally. Barry was trying harder than ever to get back to normal.

They took Barry to his favorite Italian restaurant, Benvenuto's, a place they usually only went to for special occasions. It was still early, so thankfully the restaurant wasn't too busy yet and there weren't as many people around. Barry seemed a bit uneasy when they pulled up in the parking lot. So far he was only used to being home or at STAR Labs, surrounded by familiar people.

As they were walking through the doors into the restaurant, they passed a small group of people on their way out. Barry seemed to give them a wide berth. He stared intensely at them, watching them closely as they passed, as if he was waiting for one of them to suddenly lunge out at him. Joe and Iris watched Barry nervously, gauging his reaction to the strangers, the first ones he had encountered since the lab. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it was too soon.

Barry took a deep breath to calm himself once they were inside the restaurant. He tried and failed to keep his eyes from darting around the room, taking in every inch of his surroundings. It was all so much. The bar of the restaurant was filled with people, all talking and laughing loudly. Barry recoiled slightly at the sounds of their voices drifting towards them. When the hostess walked up to them to seat them, Barry stood a little closer to Joe and Iris, his eyes still looking nervously around at everything, like he was about to be attacked at any moment. He was already starting to sweat, and his hands were balled up into fists. To say he was on edge would be a bit of an understatement.

Iris wanted to put a hand on Barry's arm to reassure him that everything was alright, but she knew her touch would only make him more nervous. She was surprised by how close he was standing, though. At home, he seemed to make an active effort not to ever be near anybody. Maybe in a public setting like this, he found the proximity comforting, though. She didn't know what to think of that.

Joe was careful not to walk behind Barry as they were being led to their table. He intentionally walked alongside him, guiding him and watching for signs that Barry might panic or bolt. Barry looked nervous as hell, but really, he was holding it together pretty well. Joe whispered to the hostess to request a secluded corner table, and it worked out really well because when they were seated, Barry had his back to the wall, and he wouldn't have to worry about anybody being behind him.

Joe and Iris sat on the opposite side of the table from him, not wanting to crowd him or box him into the booth. They let him have his own space, to keep him more comfortable.

"It's so cold in here," Barry said once they were seated.

The restaurant had excellent air conditioning, and the AC seemed to be on full blast. It didn't help that Barry was right under the air vent.

"I could switch seats with you, Barry," Iris offered.

"No," Barry said quickly, shivering slightly, "I'm fine here."

He'd rather sit in the cold than in a spot where he might have people behind him. He was more comfortable with his back to the wall. Now that he was sitting, he was starting to calm down a bit. Walking into the restaurant had been the hardest part. Now he just had to get through the meal. He was trying to enjoy it. Going out for a nice dinner was supposed to be a positive, relaxing thing, but his anxiety was through the roof by the time the waitress first approached their table and asked them for their drink orders.

"Umm, I'll have a couple glasses of water," Barry said, not looking her in the eye.

She was the first stranger he had spoken to since getting out of the lab, and he could hardly look at her. Joe and Iris both looked at him but didn't say anything. The waitress just giggled.

"A couple?" she asked.

Barry still didn't look at her. He couldn't. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun that reminded him strongly of Dr. Holland. The waitress really didn't even look like her, but it was enough so that Barry couldn't look up from the table. Thankfully, Joe spoke up and saved him from answering.

"A pitcher of water for the table would be great," he said softly to her, "No ice, please."

She nodded and then cast Barry a funny look before walking away to get their drinks for them.

"Sorry," Barry mumbled to them, "I wasn't thinking."

Even with something as simple as ordering drinks in a restaurant, he couldn't be normal. He had completely forgotten that most people only had one glass of water with their meal.

"It's alright, Barry," Iris assured him, "You're doing great."

When the waitress returned with their drinks, Barry tensed up again. She set the water pitcher in the middle of the table and then set their glasses in front of them. Trying not to be too quick or obvious about it, Barry slid his glass to the other side of the table, away from the waitress. Obviously, he knew she wasn't about to snatch the glass back away from him, but he had to do it anyways. It just made him feel better. He was pretty sure Joe and Iris both noticed the action. They seemed to be watching his every move.

"Are you ready to order here?" their waitress asked the three of them.

They all nodded and Joe and Iris ordered first. When the waitress then looked expectantly at Barry, he didn't look up from the menu and spook in a soft voice when he told her his order.

"May I have the chicken alfredo please?"

It almost sounded like he was asking for permission. She gave him a funny look but ignored his strange behavior as she jotted down his order.

"Would you like soup or salad with that?" she asked kindly, leaning towards him so she could hear his soft voice.

Barry's breath hitched in his throat and he noticeably leaned away from her. His movement wasn't frantic or panicked, but it was enough to convey his discomfort, and the confused waitress took that as a cue for her to take a step back from the strange young man.

"He'll have the soup," Joe answered quickly for him, not even asking what their soup of the night was.

The waitress simply nodded. As she was taking the menus back from them, Joe leaned in and whispered to her.

"Can he get that with the penne pasta instead of fettuccini?" he asked, "And can you please put the chicken on the side?"

She gave Joe a strange look but nodded, writing it down on her notepad. She looked curiously at the three of them once more before walking away.

"I would have been fine with fettuccini," Barry said quietly after she left.

"I know," Joe said, "But penne is easier to eat."

Iris then decided to start a conversation about something else to try to distract Barry from how uncomfortable he felt.

"So, Barry," she said, "I heard you've been working hard on your software project at STAR Labs."

Barry shifted slightly in his seat before answering her.

"Yeah, it keeps me busy," he said offhandedly, "It's just for fun really."

Iris laughed.

"Only, you, Bar, being the nerd that you are, would find designing a simulation software program fun."

Barry gave her a small smile but didn't respond, letting the conversation die out. Silently, he took another large drink of his water.

"Don't drink it all right away, Bar," Joe said gently, "Try to pace yourself."

"I'm trying to," Barry muttered.

At home, he had gotten really good about not gorging himself on water during every meal, but here he couldn't help it. He was anxious, and the water made him feel slightly better. He was still looking nervously around the restaurant, overwhelmed by all the people around them.

Iris looked around, too. Thankfully, nobody was sitting too close to them, and their table was in a somewhat secluded spot. She looked over just in time to see their waitress point at them. She was standing by the service station with the other waitresses, and it was quite obvious she was talking about them. Iris felt her blood boil, but she decided not to say anything about the waitress. Really, could she blame her? They had been an unusual table from the moment they walked in and asked to be seated in their own little private corner.

Iris looked away from the waitresses and gave Barry a warm smile, hoping he hadn't noticed what she had.

"Caitlin says you've been making good progress with your speed," she said.

Barry stopped looking around the restaurant and looked back at her again. He nodded, and Iris was pleased to see the corners of his mouth turn up a bit at the subject.

"It feels so good to run again," he said in a relieved voice, "My form is still off, but I've been working on it, and I'm making some improvement."

"You'll get there, Bar," Joe said supportively, "Just keep working at it."

A different waitress brought their soup and salad out. She stared almost expectantly at Barry as she set his soup in front of him. Barry thanked her quietly without looking her in the eyes.

"Is there anything else I can get for you three?" she asked them, still staring at Barry.

Her eyes flitted down to his hand where his missing ring finger was visible. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw it. It was a good thing Barry was wearing long sleeves or else she would have been staring at his scars, too. Seeing her gaze, Barry self-consciously moved his hand so that it was underneath the table, his cheeks blushing scarlet.

"We're fine, thank you," Iris dismissed her coldly.

It was obvious this girl had just come out to their table to check out the weird guy who couldn't stand to look anyone in the eye and who looked like he could jump up and run away at any moment. It made her feel sick. Barry wasn't some spectacle for everyone to come and look at. They just wanted to enjoy their meal in peace.

Barry just tried to block out everything around him as he focused on his soup. He knew people were staring at him, especially with the way he was holding his spoon. He had mastered his new way of eating with his damaged hands, but it still didn't look quite natural to someone who hadn't seen him eat before. People watching probably thought he had some kind of mental disability or something.

It wasn't much better when they got their food and Joe started cutting up his chicken for him before adding it to the pasta. Barry blushed and couldn't look at anyone as he sipped nervously on his water. Like he had with his soup, Barry subtly smelled the first bite of his food before eating it. He hoped nobody noticed. He couldn't help it. He knew there wouldn't be any drugs in his pasta, but he was incapable of eating it without smelling it first. It was something he still even did with his food at home.

Joe and Iris tried not to stare at him while he was eating. They knew that always made him uncomfortable, and Barry was already uncomfortable because of the setting. Iris looked back over to the waitress station, and she could see a few of the waitresses looking at them. One of them made a motion with her hand that looked suspiciously like she was mimicking Barry and the way he was holding his fork as he ate. Another one of the waitresses laughed.

Iris saw red.

Staring was understandable. Pointing was mildly rude. But laughing? Mimicking him? Iris wanted to hit something. Her heart broke for Barry, and she hoped against all hope that he hadn't noticed them. How could they just stand there and laugh at him? If only they knew what had happened to him, what he had been through. They wouldn't be laughing then. If they knew who he really was, how many people he had selflessly risked his life to save, they would be thanking him and admiring him instead of mimicking him.

Barry tried to hold the fork in a way that looked natural, but no matter what he did, it looked awkward. He was regretting this. Going out in public was one thing, but why did it have to be out to eat? Barry could feel everyone's eyes on him, and it wasn't long before just the thought of them all watching him made him feel sick. He felt so humiliated. He only ate a small amount of his pasta before his appetite was completely gone.

"How's everything tasting here?" the waitress asked cheerfully, approaching the table to check on them.

Iris glared at her, knowing she had just been making fun of Barry with her catty coworkers.

"Can we get everything wrapped up?" Joe asked her, seeing that Barry was clearly done eating and desperately wanted to get out of there.

The waitress looked a bit taken aback, but she nodded.

"Sure," she said, taking Joe's plate, "I'll just box these up for you."

When she reached for Barry's plate, he put his hand out.

"I can box mine myself," he said quietly, not liking the idea of the food being taken away from him.

He knew it was silly, but he didn't want her to take the food away. He would feel better if it stayed with him.

"Oh, it's no trouble," the waitress insisted in a false-friendly voice, continuing to reach for the plate.

"He said he'll box it himself," Iris snapped at her.

The waitress gave them a funny look but then shrugged and took Joe's and Iris's plates from them and returned with a box for Barry. Joe was quick to pay the check, and they left the restaurant immediately. It hadn't gone terribly, but it definitely could have gone better. Really, Barry had done a good job. He hadn't panicked or done anything wrong, and yet, they all still felt terrible for some reason as they walked to the car.

"You did great, Bar," Joe said once they had gotten into the car.

"They were laughing at me," Barry said flatly, "People were pointing."

Iris's heart sank. So he _had_ noticed.

"Ignore them, Barry," she said angrily, "They're just ignorant and stupid. You were amazing."

"But I wasn't normal," Barry muttered quietly.

That's all he wanted. He had just wanted to be able to go out to a nice dinner with his family and appear like a normal person, like everyone else there. But he wasn't normal, and he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be now. Tears were starting to burn in his eyes as he thought about all the times they had been to this restaurant before his abduction. It used to be one of his favorite places. He used to go there and enjoy himself, laughing and enjoying the meal like everyone else without having to constantly think about it. Now he was just a freak.

"I'm sorry for embarrassing you," Barry apologized, his eyes welling up with tears.

"Barry," Iris said sadly, "You didn't embarrass us. You didn't do anything wrong."

Barry didn't respond. He stared at his hands in his lap. He couldn't ever remember feeling more humiliated. He just wanted to go home. Joe and Iris felt awful. They felt like the whole thing had been a terrible mistake. They shouldn't have taken him there. They should have taken him somewhere else for his first time out. Somewhere quieter and more familiar. Jitters would have been better.

When they got home, Barry went straight to bed. Joe and Iris tried to reassure him again that he had done a good job, but he didn't want to hear it. He just wanted to go to sleep, and they didn't try to stop him. With a sinking feeling in both their stomachs, they watched Barry disappear up the stairs to his room.

* * *

Cisco and Caitlin always hated interacting with Dr. Holland. They couldn't stand the sight of her, and they wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. Her presence at STAR Labs seemed to weigh over them throughout the day. The fact that she was there in the building always seemed to be at the back of their minds, and it bothered them constantly, especially when Barry was around, completely oblivious to the fact that the woman who tortured him, mutilated him, and psychologically tormented him for nine weeks was in the same building as him this entire time.

They felt like they were betraying Barry, like they were keeping this huge, dirty secret from him. He would probably never forgive them if he knew, and they wouldn't have blamed him for it. They felt horrible for keeping it from him, even if they were keeping him in the dark to protect him. The truth was, none of them knew what Barry would do if he knew they had Dr. Holland as their prisoner. They hadn't seen all the videos—not anywhere _near_ all of them—but they had seen enough to know that if Barry ever came face to face with Dr. Holland again, it would be a disaster. Really, they had no idea how he would react, but they knew it was for the better that he not see any of his abusers again, including the one who had helped them get him out of there.

At least now they seemed to have found a use for Dr. Holland. It turned out she knew General Eiling better than most, and she was now helping them track his movements. She knew how he thought and how he did things, and she was the best person to help them anticipate what his next move would be. They all knew what they would have to do now. They would have to expose Eiling to the public eye, reveal his crimes to the world. Right now, their plan was to keep an eye on him while gathering evidence against him in the meantime.

Dr. Holland was able to help them obtain quite a bit of incriminating information on the man. She was also helping to go through all of the data she had taken from the lab, looking for any evidence that they could use against him. They weren't sure if they would ever take it all to trial, but they had more than enough video evidence to prove Eiling participated in illegal human experimentation, not to mention false imprisonment, gross neglect, and severe psychological abuse and torture of an American citizen.

The only problem was that they didn't know how Barry would feel about showing the videos in a courtroom, not to mention if he would be willing to testify and talk about what happened to him in front of a jury. They didn't know if the medical files would be enough on their own, but the video evidence would be indisputable in the court of law.

* * *

Although Barry had been extremely discouraged after his first outing didn't go as well as he had hoped, he didn't let that stop his progress. He didn't let himself break down and give up. If anything, it made him work harder. He ran every day on the treadmill, and he practiced writing constantly. He was getting better at it, the words coming easier to him now. He could only write for so long, though, before his hand started to cramp and spasm, but he was slowly getting more and more control over it.

Barry also seemed to be talking and laughing more each day. Sure, his words still sounded scripted and his laughs still sounded hollow, but the fact that he was making an effort meant everything.

Barry was working on it, working on reestablishing the relationships that he had originally thought he would never be able to build back up again. He was working on making his laughs real. He didn't want to just seem happy. Barry wanted to _be_ happy, and he was finding that it was something that would take time. He had to start small, had to find joy in the little things. Watching a funny movie with Joe and Iris, playing video games with Cisco, family game night. It was all the little things that allowed Barry to find brief moments of happiness, and Barry clung to those moments, tried to hold onto each little ray of light they provided him. He hoped one day he wouldn't have to try to be happy and that it would come easily to him again, like it had before.

Barry was also getting better with medical situations. Caitlin had finally managed to take a blood sample from him without him completely losing check with reality. Sure, there was some yelling and tears and the occasional swearing on Barry's part when they were doing it, but he stayed strong. He didn't break down like he had before, and it really showed for itself just how far he had come.

He did still get the occasional panic attack every now and then. At random moments, sometimes even without any triggers, Barry would become consumed by dread. One of the others would usually find him huddled in a corner somewhere, curled up, trying to regain control of his breathing. There really wasn't much they could do for him when it happened. They just gave him space and tried their best to talk him down from them. Barry was always extremely embarrassed after it happened. Really, he preferred to go through his episodes alone and without an audience, something they picked up on rather quickly. They did their best to just give Barry all the space he needed while he worked himself through it.

His panic attacks were becoming fewer, though. He didn't hallucinate really. He just got scared sometimes, and Barry had gotten better at dealing with that fear when it threatened to consume him. He got better at recognizing an attack coming on, and he was learning how to distract himself from it before it got out of hand. It was all one big learning process.

* * *

 _'_ _Moral wounds have this peculiarity. They may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart._

 _'_ _It was the honor of Monsieur de Morcef and that of—'_

"Watcha reading, Slugger?"

A familiar voice suddenly pulled his attention from his book. Barry looked up in shock. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the man standing in the doorway of the small kitchen where he had been sitting at the counter reading.

"Dad."


	13. What Would Barry Say?

**What Would Barry Say?**

* * *

 _'_ _Moral wounds have this peculiarity. They may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart._

 _'_ _It was the honor of Monsieur de Morcef and that of—'_

"Watcha reading, Slugger?"

A familiar voice suddenly pulled his attention from his book. Barry looked up in shock. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the man standing in the doorway of the small kitchen where he had been sitting at the counter reading.

"Dad."

Barry stood up from his chair.

A sudden balloon of happiness seemed to expand in his stomach at the sight of his father. It was completely unexpected. That happy balloon, however, was suddenly punctured when his father, without warning and _way_ too quickly, crossed the small kitchen and wrapped his arms tightly around his son.

In a single moment, all the air stopped going into Barry's lungs, and a horrible sensation of intense terror suddenly pierced through him. He felt like he was being crushed, like he wasn't able to move. It happened way too quickly. It suddenly felt like he had a million hands on him, touching him, enveloping him, _violating_ him. It made his blood run cold. Barry's eyes widened in fear as he struggled just to take in a breath.

Henry had just barely registered Barry's flinch and the way he had suddenly tensed up when suddenly, Barry's hands forced their way in between them. Henry felt all the air forced out of him when Barry harshly shoved him back away from him. He barely avoided falling as he clutched at the counter to steady himself. When he looked back up, Barry was on the other side of the room, facing him with his back against the wall in the corner, his eyes filled with terror.

Joe and Iris had been eagerly yet nervously watching the small reunion from the doorway. Everything had happened so quickly, they hadn't been able to do anything to stop it. Iris rushed forward.

"Are you okay, Henry?" she asked him, grabbing his arm.

"I'm fine," he said, looking at his son in confusion.

Barry's eyes were wide with fear, and he seemed like he was about to start hyperventilating.

"Bar," Joe said, cautiously moving towards the corner where Barry stood.

Henry thought it looked like he was approaching a skittish horse.

"Bar, it's okay," Joe soothed, "You're still safe. It's alright."

"Sorry," Barry said instantly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Joe said, "You couldn't help it. We know. It's not your fault."

Henry watched in confusion as Joe tried to comfort his son. Joe was telegraphing all of his movements, and it was clear he was trying to give Barry as much space as possible. It was then that Henry realized his mistake, and he instantly felt awful for it.

Barry turned away from Joe to face his father.

"I'm so sorry, dad," Barry said in anguish, "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't—"

"It's okay, Barry," Henry said quickly, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't realize…"

Henry looked closer at his son. Barry was still breathing heavily, his hands were shaking, and he was still eyeing him wearily, as if a part of him still thought Henry meant to do him harm.

"Barry," Joe said in a hushed voice, stepping a little closer, "You need to sit down."

"I'm good, Joe," Barry said, straightening up, giving them a small, unconvincing smile, "I'm fine. I just wasn't prepared…but I'm good now."

Henry had a sick feeling in his gut as he watched his son try to regain full control of his breathing. He had nearly had a panic attack, all just because Henry had hugged him. They had told him things with Barry were bad, but he didn't imagine it would be like this.

"Barry, I'm so sorry," he said desperately, "I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have rushed in here and hugged you like that. I should have guessed you wouldn't want that."

He took a small step closer to Barry and felt even worse when he saw Barry flinch ever so slightly. It was hard to see, being the smallest of movements, but he had definitely flinched. He was still reeling from the unexpected hug.

"Bar, sit down," Joe insisted, pulling a kitchen chair out for him, "You need to sit."

Reluctantly, Barry finally obeyed and took a seat. He took another deep breath, looking apologetically towards his father.

"I'm okay," he reassured him, giving that same unconvincing smile.

It wasn't the smile Henry remembered, the smile he knew so well.

"Please don't be sorry, dad."

Slowly— _very_ slowly—Henry took a seat at the table across from Barry. He was careful not to move too quickly, not wanting to scare Barry further. He felt like he completely blew it. His first time seeing Barry since everything that had happened, and now his son was afraid of him. All because he had thoughtlessly rushed to hug him as soon as he saw him.

"I'm not afraid of you," Barry said, as if he had read his mind.

Barry's breathing seemed to have mostly evened out. He seemed alright now, but Henry could still see a slight quiver in his hands, and Barry still seemed to be sitting on the edge of his seat, not fully relaxing back into it.

"I'm fine, dad."

"I didn't know it was this bad," Henry said in shock, "They said you were still shaken, but…Barry, what did those people _do_ to you?"

Barry's mouth opened but no words came out. He looked extremely uncomfortable. Thankfully, Iris came to his aid.

"We can talk about that later, Henry," she said quickly, "I'm sorry. We should have had that conversation before this."

Henry furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Barry. He should have let them explain first. He had been so anxious to see his son that he had rushed into the house before they could prepare him first. Barry had appeared so normal at first sight, just sitting there reading his book, Henry hadn't realized at first just how broken he really was. Now he was allowing himself to really _look_ at Barry.

He was thin.

He was _very_ thin. Henry could definitely see that. It was the first thing he noticed. Barry was wearing several layers of clothes despite the warm weather, so Henry couldn't tell exactly how thin he was, but he could tell that Barry had lost a lot of weight. It seemed almost like Barry was hiding underneath all the layers of clothes, as if their primary purpose was to conceal the damage that had been done to his body. Most of him was covered, but Henry could see long scars along his neckline, just above the collar of his shirt, and it made him sick to wonder how many more there were he couldn't see.

What was most disturbing to Henry, though, wasn't the weight Barry had lost or the unknown number of scars he was sure to have now. It was his eyes. Barry's usually bright eyes were now dark, like the light had been sucked right out of them. His eyes were dead, his forced smile not quite reaching them. What had those people done to him?!

"How are you doing, son?" he asked sadly, "Really."

Barry's smile faltered slightly.

"I'm doing better," he said in a hesitant voice, "For a while there, I…but that doesn't matter. I'm doing good now. I'm running again, and I can write now. I…"

Barry seemed at a complete loss for words, and that really told Henry all he needed to know about how Barry was doing.

* * *

Henry didn't know how to act around Barry now, and it seemed Barry didn't really know how to act around him. It was like he was a completely different person. Sure, Barry did his best to act normal, but it seemed forced. It seemed like Barry had to think about everything too much, like he was always second-guessing himself, always choosing his words carefully, as if he was constantly thinking to himself, _"Now what would Barry say?"_

It was all an act.

Henry stayed at the house all day with them. It felt like he was getting to know his son for the first time, like Barry was a stranger whom he had just met, a stranger with all his son's memories but who wasn't quite his son. Not entirely. Not anymore. Henry was still trying to figure the whole thing out.

At one point in the late afternoon, when Barry had disappeared upstairs to take a shower, Henry was finally able to sit down with Joe and Iris to discuss everything that was going on with him.

"I don't know how to talk to him," he admitted sadly, "It's all so…"

"I know," Joe said understandingly, "We're still trying to figure things out, ourselves. Barry's a little thrown off right now, though. He wasn't expecting this. We probably should have told him you were coming. He's trying too hard right now. He's trying too hard to seem normal, and that's what's making it so hard."

"I shouldn't have hugged him," Henry said bitterly, "That was so stupid of me. You told me he had been abducted. I should have known to be more careful around him, until I knew how much damage had been done."

"Henry about what happened to Barry…" Joe said, exchanging a nervous look with Iris, "It was a lot more than just him being abducted. We didn't tell you everything that happened to him. We didn't think it was something you should hear about over the phone."

Henry looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue. Joe sighed heavily.

"You know from what I told you on the phone that Barry was taken and held captive for nine weeks."

Henry nodded.

"The people that took him," Joe continued, "They did terrible things to him during that time. They…they tortured him. Experimented on him."

Henry felt his stomach churn. He swallowed back the lump in his throat.

"The scars?" he whispered, "The ones on his throat?"

"From the experiments," Iris answered darkly, "They cover his entire body."

Henry's eyes welled with tears as he took a deep breath.

"What did they do to him?" he whispered.

Joe and Iris looked at each other uncertainly.

"A lot," Joe answered simply, his voice heavy, "He was there for nine weeks, Henry. They experimented on him round the clock without ever stopping. They did countless procedures on him, and Barry was awake the entire time. For nine weeks, he hardly slept. He's been through a lot."

It felt like a major understatement. Barry had been through _hell_ , and Joe and Iris didn't even know how to begin to explain what he had been through to Henry. There really were no words for it.

Even without all the details, Henry felt like he was going to be sick just at the thought of a bunch of scientists experimenting on his boy. Something like that couldn't happen to Barry. It just couldn't.

"He's doing better, though," Iris said hopefully, "He's been making really good progress. If you think he seems bad now, you should have seen him when we first got him back. Barry really has come a long way."

Henry shook his head sadly.

"That boy has been through so much already," he said quietly, "He didn't deserve this."

Joe and Iris both nodded sadly in agreement.

"I don't…" Henry started, "I don't know how to act around him. I don't know what to say and what to do. What _not_ to do."

"We can help you with that," Iris said supportively, "We've had some time now living with him to figure that out. We've learned how to handle it better now."

"Like what?" Henry asked, "What do I need to know?"

"Well for starters, don't hug him," Joe said, "I'm sure you've figured that one out now."

Henry nodded guiltily.

"Make sure you do everything slowly," Iris suggested, "He's fine as long he knows what you're doing. Quick, sudden movements make him uneasy."

"Also, don't look at him too much," Joe added, "Too much direct eye contact makes Barry uncomfortable. It took me a while to figure that one out."

Henry nodded, determined to remember everything.

"Also, don't ever stand behind him or any place where he can't see you," Iris said, "He needs to see everyone and everything around him. He's gotten a little bit better at trusting people now, but it helps keep him comfortable if he can see everything you're doing. Otherwise he gets nervous easily."

"Don't stare at the scars," Joe said, "Barry's really self-conscious about them, and he hates people looking at them."

"Don't look at him when he's eating either," Iris added, "He gets self-conscious about that, too."

"And whatever you do," Joe said seriously, "Don't ever, _ever_ touch him."

Henry sighed heavily. It was all so overwhelming. He was certain he was going to mess this up. It seemed like there was more that you _shouldn't_ do than what you should. There were so many little things that you could do wrong. It was hard to believe this was _Barry_ they were talking about, that this was what his son had been reduced to. He was just so…broken.

"Don't worry, Henry," Iris said supportively, "You'll learn how to be around Barry quickly. The two of you will establish a rhythm, just like the rest of us have with Barry. New people are still just a little hard for him right now."

"But I'm not a new person," Henry said quietly, "I'm his father. I'm not some stranger."

"We know," Joe said, "But right now, anyone who Barry hasn't seen since before his abduction is new to him. It's not something you should take personally. It's just Barry trying to process everything."

Henry sighed again.

"I'm going to mess this up," he said sadly, "I know I am."

"Don't worry, Henry," Iris said, "You'll be fine. Eventually you'll learn how to read Barry the same way we have. You'll learn all of his tells with time."

"His tells?" Henry asked.

"Barry has certain indicators," Joe said to him, "You can use them to tell when he's upset or nervous. When he's feeling bad, he won't ever tell you, but it's usually pretty easy to notice if you know what to look for."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Well, for starters, there's all the normal signs of nervousness," Iris said, "Flinching a lot. Changes in his breathing. Clenching his fists. He does that one a lot. If you just watch Barry's hands, most of the time you'll pick up on it."

"Sometimes his eyes will dart around the room," Joe told him, "Or he'll watch your every move, like he's waiting for an attack or something. Other things he does are a little harder to notice. Sometimes it's hard to tell when something's upsetting him because he'll just get really quiet all of a sudden. Other times, he'll just stare off into space, like his mind is somewhere else. Barry gets lost in his own thoughts sometimes. It takes time, but eventually you'll start to notice it more when he does it."

"Blankets too," Iris said, "When Barry's feeling bad, he'll cover himself in blankets. He gets cold easily, and I think the blankets make him feel less exposed. More secure."

"When he was on the table…" Joe started to explain, "He didn't have any clothes. He was extremely exposed and vulnerable. That's why he always wears long sleeves, I think. Barry has always liked his layers, but I think he wears more clothes now just because of what happened to him."

"And because of the scars," Iris added quietly.

Henry sighed heavily. It was too much. Hearing all of this all at once was overwhelming. He hadn't been prepared for it. When they had first told him that Barry was currently recovering from being taken, he thought it was just normal Flash stuff. He was worried and concerned of course, but he knew Barry would be alright and that he would bounce back from it like he always did.

He didn't know it was this bad.

* * *

It took Barry a few days to get used to his dad being around. Henry was staying in their guest bedroom, and for Barry, it was quite an adjustment to have another person in the house. He was hyperaware of his father's presence. He had gotten used to Joe and Iris being around him in his home, but having Henry there put him on edge at first. It was just another person for him to keep track of, another body to watch for out of the corners of his eyes. Of course, he trusted him. He was his dad, after all. Barry just had a hard time adjusting to a new person being around him all the time.

Henry learned rather quickly how to be around Barry. He made sure to follow all the advice Joe and Iris had given him, and he learned a few things on his own as well. He learned that Barry didn't like it when you talked in a loud voice. Soft, gentle tones were better, but if you spoke too softly to him, he would get annoyed, like he knew what you were doing. He learned that when Barry was practicing his writing it was best to stay silent and not offer any words of encouragement. The praise usually only made him more frustrated when his hands inevitably started to cramp and spasm after a while.

It broke Henry's heart to see it. He could see how hard his son was trying, and he wished he could do more to help him. Barry was trying desperately to communicate with all of them, but a part of him didn't know how to do that anymore. Boy, was he trying, though. It was Barry who usually suggested family game nights and movie nights now—any opportunity to bring them all together. He was trying so hard to reconnect with them, and they were trying just as hard in return, but something seemed to be standing in their way. Some invisible barrier seemed to be in between them and Barry.

Something was holding Barry back. Something was stopping his recovery. He was trying, but they all knew something was still eating at him. He still hadn't fully moved on from what had happened to him, and they were still at a loss for how to help him cope and fully move on. Barry still couldn't find peace, and it was inhibiting his progress.

Barry was getting better and better at hiding it, Iris thought. He hid his fear and his pain, shoved it down deep inside himself and only took it out when he was alone and it was safe to lose himself in those fears when there was no one around to witness it. Barry seemed almost normal now. He was talking more, participating in conversations, helping out around the house, spending time with everyone. He was living. He was recovering.

At least, that's what it seemed like on the outside. Iris knew his demons were still there, though. They just were harder to see throughout the normal day. At night, however, Barry's demons came out, and the damage was much more visible. Like her father—and now Henry—Iris had gotten into the habit of checking on Barry throughout the night. Sometimes Iris would just peek her head inside his bedroom to see if he was asleep and then she would leave. Other nights, however, she would stay for a while, sitting next to Barry's bed to watch over him as he slept.

This was when she could see it. She could see how bad he still really was. Consciously, Barry could make an effort to appear fine to everyone who looked at him, but subconsciously he couldn't control his natural reactions and reflexes. He couldn't hide it from them when he was sleeping. Even now, over two months after coming home, Barry still slept curled up in a ball on his side. He never laid on his back, and he never straightened his limbs. His legs were always drawn up to his chest, his knees bent.

His arms were always wrapped tightly around a pillow, clutching it like it was a life line. It was the closest thing to a hug Barry could take right now. The thought saddened Iris. Barry had always been the very definition of a hugger, and now he couldn't even stand the smallest touch from his own family members. It seemed to be yet another part of him the scientists had cut away.

Barry never looked fully at rest. Even when he wasn't having nightmares, Barry never seemed to completely relax. He never seemed peaceful. After all the unspeakable things that had been inflicted on him, Barry could never relax. His muscles were always tensed, fingers gripping the pillow in his arms tightly. His brows were always furrowed, mouth set into a subtle frown. Even in his sleep, Barry was on edge.

As Iris looked at him, Barry suddenly took in a deep breath and a small whimper escaped his lips. She knew instantly that he was dreaming, no doubt about his time in the lab. Iris never knew if she should wake him up or not. When he started yelling and thrashing, she always did, but when it was subtle like this, she never knew if it would be best to wake him up from his nightmare or just let him sleep through it. He definitely needed all the sleep he could get, and if she woke him up, it was unlikely that Barry would be able to fall back asleep afterwards. No, it was better to let him sleep if possible.

Barry whimpered again and shifted slightly, curling up tighter, like he was trying to make himself smaller. A tear escaped one of his closed eyes and rolled down the side of his face, causing tears to quickly fill Iris's own eyes at the sight. This was the pain he kept hidden from them now, the hurt that could only be seen at night, when Barry's guard was down.

"Don't hurt him," Barry muttered in a shaky voice, "Please. I didn't mean to move. Hurt me. I'm the one who moved. Hurt me instead."

The words came out in a quiet cry rather than a shout, but Iris considered waking Barry up regardless. His breath was starting to hitch in his throat, and a couple more tears escaped his eyes. He was full-on crying in his sleep. Desperate to comfort him, Iris reached out and touched his arm. Barry flinched instantly. It was a reaction he had somewhat learned to control during his waking hours, but when he was asleep, his subconscious had him flinching away from even the smallest foreign touch.

As Iris quickly removed her hand, Barry continued to cry in his sleep, his muscles straining with the tension that consumed his entire body. Iris didn't know what to do. She didn't want to wake him up, but she didn't want to do nothing either when he was clearly suffering. Hoping she wasn't making a huge mistake, Iris reached her hand out again, this time slowly reaching for Barry's head. When her fingers lightly rested in his hair and Barry flinched immediately, Iris feared she had done the worst thing she could have possibly done. She left her hand there this time, though, even after he flinched, and very slowly and gently, she ran her fingers through Barry's hair in an attempt to comfort him.

For a moment, Barry seemed to only tense up more, his breathing growing more frantic with fear, but then something amazing happened. His breathing suddenly started to even out, and he stopped pulling away from the touch. In fact, he _leaned into_ it. As Iris ran her fingers through his soft hair, Barry's facial muscles smoothed out, and the rest of him seemed to relax. After a minute or two, he even stopped crying, the soft whimpers dying out in his throat.

Iris was amazed. She was _touching_ Barry. She was touching his head, and he wasn't pulling away. He was relaxing— _actually_ relaxing. Since they had gotten him back home, she had never seen him look this peaceful, this at ease. She continued to run her fingers through his hair, and Barry melted into the touch. A smile worked its way onto her face when she saw how content he looked. She sat there for a long time, running her fingers soothingly through his hair. She didn't know how long she was there, but by the time she finally left Barry's room, he was sleeping soundly for what seemed like the first time in months.

It gave Iris hope. Maybe one day she would be able to touch him while he was awake. Maybe one day, he wouldn't flinch away from the contact. But for now, she would settle with being able to comfort him in his sleep. At least subconsciously, she could comfort him in a way she wasn't able to during the day.

She could slowly show him that not every touch means pain.


	14. Secrets and Lies

**Secrets and Lies**

* * *

Barry was pleased when he held the large stirring spoon without difficulty. Silverware for eating was still a bit of a challenge for him, but he was proud of how normal he looked when he held the larger cooking utensil. You couldn't even tell that his hands were damaged.

"Thanks for the help, Bar," Iris said happily.

"No problem," Barry said, with a small smile, "I'm a professional stirrer by now."

Iris giggled.

"Well, that's good," she said, "It frees up my hands to do other things."

Barry knew she didn't really need his help, but it felt good to play some sort of role in everything. Really, all he ever did when he helped her cook was stir. It was all he was really good at. He wasn't much of a cook to begin with.

"Mmm, it smells good in here," his father said as he entered the room.

Barry looked up from the broth he was stirring to smile at him. His smile faltered, however, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Iris pull a cutting board out of the cupboard to cut the vegetables for the soup. He saw the slight glint of a kitchen knife in her hand and Barry felt his chest constrict at the sight.

"You okay, Slugger?" his father asked, having noticed Barry's change in expression.

When Barry looked back at him, he saw that his dad was staring at his hand, which was clenching the stirring spoon so hard it was shaking. He consciously made his hand relax around the utensil.

"Fine," Barry answered cheerfully, pulling the smile back up on his face.

His father didn't seem to quite buy it, but thankfully he didn't say anything as he sat down behind the kitchen counter. Barry noticed his father didn't take his eyes off him, though, and he knew his dad was analyzing him, so he tried his best to hide his discomfort as Iris started to use the kitchen knife to cut the vegetables.

He felt all the blood drain from his face at the sight, but he forced himself to look away and act like nothing was wrong. He could handle this. It was just a stupid kitchen knife. It wasn't like she was about to lunge out at him and stab him with it. Iris was just cutting vegetables, completely oblivious to the sudden tension in the room.

Barry just stared down at the pot on top of the stove, focusing on his stirring. He could still feel his father's eyes on him, watching him out of the corners of his eyes as he talked to Iris. Barry didn't even try to follow the conversation they were having, though. All he could hear was a dull roaring sound in his ears. In spite of himself, Barry looked over at the knife again. Iris was just dicing carrots, laughing as she talked to his father, but all Barry could focus on was the razor sharp blade of the knife in her hand. His mind was instantly filled with images of the blade slicing into him, cutting into his skin to expose the blood and muscle tissue that lay beneath. He felt his stomach churn.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, leaving the kitchen in a hurry.

He could feel both their eyes on him as he left the kitchen as fast as he could without using his superspeed. When he reached the refuge of the bathroom, he quickly closed the door shut behind him. For a moment, all Barry could do was just stand there with his back up against the door he had just closed. He breathed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Even after all this time, after all the progress he had made, he was still affected by the sight of a stupid knife.

Barry walked over to the bathroom sink and turned the water on. Just the sound of the running water made him feel just the slightest bit better. He forced himself to look up at the mirror in front of him. Like always, his stomach clenched at his own reflection. He hated looking into mirrors now.

He looked paler than usual, and he was still feeling sick. He was dizzy enough to feel the need to brace himself against the sink for balance as he took deep breaths and tried to calm down. He realized then that he was sweating, and he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face with.

When he put his hands back down, he couldn't stop himself from looking at the scars on his arms. He had been home long enough that his memories of the lab were starting to feel more like just nightmares to him, like something his mind had just conjured up that hadn't really happened. The scars were always a sick reminder that it had all been real. It _had_ happened. It had really happened to him. They reminded him that no matter what he did, he would never be the same way he used to be. He would never be normal.

Barry felt his breathing worsen at the thought. He stared at his reflection with loathing and disgust. He was so weak now. So damaged. He could smile and help cook dinner and act like everything was okay, but deep down, it wasn't. It never would be. His stomach continued to churn as he thought of the knife again. As he stared at his scars, he thought about what the blade of the scalpel had felt like as it sliced into him, red fluid spilling out of him as he laid there helplessly, forced to endure every slice of pain, every agonizing sting of the blade being dragged through his skin, reopening the cuts from before.

Over and over again.

Barry's mouth felt dry, and his throat was suddenly burning with thirst. Just the sound of running water wasn't enough now. He needed it. He needed it in him now. With urgency, he cupped his hands under the running water in the sink and let the water pool in his palms before bringing it to his lips. He repeated the motion over and over again, dripping water all down the front of his shirt in the process but not caring in the slightest. Soon, cupping his hands wasn't enough for him, and he ducked his head down towards the sink to drink directly from the faucet.

The feeling of clean water sliding down his throat made him feel better. It gave him a momentary feeling of security. It helped him forget. It helped him remember that he was home now, that he could have all the water he wanted, and no one was going to take it from him. It made him feel safe.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, leaning over the sink, gulping water like a man who was dying of thirst. Barry didn't know if he was ever going to be able to stop. Every time he pulled away from the water, the knife would work its way back into his mind, and he would duck his head back down again. After some time had passed, Barry started to feel sick. His stomach wasn't just churning anymore; it was contracting. He was starting to gag, yet still, he kept drinking. His already full stomach heaved again in protest as he continued trying to put more water into his body.

Barry kept drinking.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to stop, and soon tears were filling his eyes as he realized just how little control he had over his actions. He couldn't stop. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

Barry tried to force himself to pull away from the water. He tried to stop drinking, but as soon as he did, the overwhelming dread and anxiety from before would wash over him, and he would desperately go back to the water again, crying as he forced himself to swallow more. Barry started to sob as he drank, the water no longer pleasant to him now, but still _necessary_. The fact that he couldn't stop terrified him, but the idea of stopping scared him more. He needed it. He needed the water.

He didn't know when he was going to get more.

It wasn't until he was full-on throwing up that Barry finally stopped drinking the water. He stumbled his way over to the toilet and emptied his stomach, gagging repeatedly with tears streaming down his face. He clutched the sides of the bowl with both hands, sobbing as he tried to regain control of his body.

They had just been cooking dinner. It had just been a nice normal evening in the house with his family. And now, here he was, kneeling on the bathroom floor, bawling his eyes out over the toilet because he had just gorged himself on water to the point where he made himself sick. It was something he hadn't done for at least a few weeks now and something that he had told himself he would never do again. He was supposed to be getting better. He was supposed to be healing. What the hell was wrong with him?! He knew better than to start drinking water like that when he was upset. He knew how hard it was for him to stop once he started under those circumstances.

"Barry?" he heard his father's voice say, alongside a small knock on the bathroom door, "Are you still in there?"

"Y-yeah," Barry answered, cringing at how unsteady his voice sounded.

"Are you alright?" his dad asked, his voice saturated with concern.

"I'm fine," Barry said, his voice sounding a little smoother this time, "I'll be right out."

"Okay," his father said slowly, not sounding fully reassured.

Barry stood up from his place on the floor and looked at himself in the mirror as he tried to collect himself. He looked like a mess. He had tear stains etched down his face, and his eyes were all red and puffy, both from vomiting and from crying. His shirt was soaked from leaning over the bathroom sink for so long, and his hands were still shaking violently. He looked so far from okay.

Barry splashed some water in his face before turning off the faucet, which he had left running the entire time. Hopefully the sound of the running water had covered up the sounds of his vomiting and crying. He dried off his face and did his best to dry his shirt, but it was hopeless. It was soaked. After taking another deep breath to collect himself, Barry reached a shaky hand towards the door knob. He opened the door to find his father still standing outside the bathroom, concern written all over his face.

His dad's eyes raked over him immediately, giving him an instant once-over, taking in Barry's rough appearance.

"Barry…" his dad said, clearly noticing that something was wrong right away.

"I'm fine," Barry said dismissively, walking past his dad and down the hallway.

"What were you doing in there that whole time?" his dad asked with concern.

"What do you _think_ I was doing?" Barry asked him defensively as he re-entered the kitchen.

Joe and Iris were both in there now, and they looked up in concern when Barry walked in with his worried father trailing right behind him.

"Barry," Joe said sadly, taking in the state of Barry's soaked clothes, "Were you drinking the water again?"

"No," Barry lied instantly, his voice hard.

He didn't look any of them in the eye.

"I don't do that anymore."

"Barry…" Joe said, shaking his head sadly.

"Bar, it's okay if you did," Iris said supportively, "We won't be mad. We're not attacking you. We just want you to tell us the truth. If you've had another episode, it's okay. We'll help you through it."

"I don't need your help," Barry insisted, "I'm fine. There's nothing wrong."

"What triggered it, Bar?" Joe asked anyways, "Did something upset you?"

"I'm not upset!" Barry said angrily, frustrated by his inability to convince them he was alright, "I'm perfectly fine. Nothing happened. I swear. There's nothing wrong."

When they all still gave him the same pitying look, Barry couldn't take it anymore. He turned and left the room, making his way for the stairs to go up to his bedroom.

"I'll go talk to him," Henry said to the other two.

They both nodded sadly.

When Henry finished climbing the stairs and walked down the hallway towards Barry's room, he strained his ears to listen outside the door. When he didn't hear anything from the other side, he knocked lightly. Barry didn't respond.

"Barry?" he said quietly as he slowly eased the door open.

His son was standing with his back to him, pulling a new shirt out of his dresser drawer.

"Please don't, dad," Barry said flatly without turning around to look at him.

Normally, Henry would have liked the idea that his son now felt comfortable enough around him to have his back to him, but now he would give anything for Barry to turn around and look at him.

"Barry…" Henry said.

" _Please_ ," Barry said forcefully, still not looking at him, "I really don't want to talk right now."

"You don't have to talk," Henry said, stepping further into the room to sit on the edge of Barry's bed, "Just listen."

"I really don't want a pep talk either," Barry said, his back still turned as he pulled his shirt off to change it.

Henry couldn't stop the little intake of air that passed through his lips when he saw the bare skin of Barry's back. Up until now he had only ever seen his son's arms, and those was just glimpses here and there. He hadn't gotten the chance to really look at the scars. Barry's body was covered in them. Huge, painful-looking scars that showed just how much damage had been done to him, physically and mentally.

Henry was a doctor. He knew surgical scars when he saw them, and he knew what the scars from third degree burns looked like. What had these people done to his son?!

When Henry didn't say anything, Barry looked around. Henry did his best to control his facial expression when Barry looked at him. He hadn't even realized that his jaw had dropped open and his eyes had widened when he had laid eyes on Barry's skin. Barry seemed to grimace slightly, having seen his father's face before he could rearrange it. He pulled the new shirt on quickly, looking away in discomfort from Henry's gaze.

"Sorry, Barry," Henry stuttered, "I didn't mean to…to stare."

"I understand," Barry said flatly, standing awkwardly in front of his dresser, not sure what else to say to his father.

It was moments like these that were the most painful for Henry. He had never had this problem with Barry before. Talking to his son had always been easy—effortless. Now, it seemed like the hardest thing in the world. His son wasn't comfortable with him like he used to be. He wasn't comfortable with _anybody_ now.

"Barry, what happened?" Henry asked, "What went wrong downstairs just now? You seemed fine one minute and then the next…"

Barry sighed and looked away.

"Can we please just let it go?" he asked desperately, "It wasn't a big deal. Nothing happened."

"What was Joe talking about?" Henry asked him, "About the water?"

He looked down at Barry's wet, discarded shirt on the floor.

"Nothing," Barry said stiffly as he picked up the soaked shirt and set it in his laundry hamper.

Henry decided to not to press the subject. He would ask Joe later.

"Barry, you haven't told me anything about what happened to you," Henry said gently, "I've been trying to be patient, trying not to press you into opening up to me but…"

"Not you too," Barry groaned, "Please, dad. I don't want to talk about the lab, okay?"

"Okay, Slugger," Henry said quietly, "I understand. I just want you to know that—"

"—that I _can_ talk about it," Barry finished for him, "Yeah, I know. I've heard that one before."

Henry looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Barry…" he said in a hurt voice.

Barry sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said brokenly, "I don't mean to be so difficult about all of this. I'm just so tired of being pressured all the time."

"You feel pressured?" Henry asked him, "By whom?"

"By everyone," Barry said in a strained voice, "Everyone wants me to open up. You all want me to get better, so I'm trying to get better, but at the same time, you all treat me like I'm still broken."

"Because you're not trying to get better, Barry," Henry said gently, "You're trying to _seem_ better."

Barry sighed and sank down into the chair in front of his desk.

"I don't know _how_ to get better," he said in a small voice.

Henry felt his heart break a little from how defeated and hopeless Barry sounded.

"You have to let us in, Barry," he said, " _Really_ let us in. You need to be honest with us and tell us what's going on with you."

Henry was somewhat surprised when Barry nodded slightly in agreement.

"You're right," he sighed, "I haven't been fully letting you guys in. I haven't been letting you help me. I haven't been completely honest with all of you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Slugger," Henry said understandingly, "I know this is hard for you."

Barry nodded and sighed as he buried his face in his hands. He was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke in a broken whisper.

"It was the knife."

"What?" Henry asked, confused.

"It was the kitchen knife," Barry said, looking up from his hands, "The one that Iris was using. Something about it…seeing it so close to me…I don't know. It was the knife that triggered it."

Henry nodded thoughtfully.

"Thank you for telling me, son," he said gratefully, "Are you okay now? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine now," Barry said quickly, "I'm good."

"You know you don't always have to be good all the time, Barry," Henry told him, "It's okay to break down sometimes. No one expects you to always be fine. We know this whole thing is a process, and you're not going to just magically be better overnight. It's going to take a while, and we're all here to support you through it."

Barry nodded.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "But I really am fine now."

Henry nodded sadly, not sure whether he believed his son or not. Barry had gotten so much better at lying now. He used to be so bad at it. Henry wasn't sure if it was from his time as the Flash—hiding his identity and keeping it a secret—or if it had more to do with what had happened to him. All he knew was that Barry was a lot harder to read now than he used to be.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" Henry asked his son quietly, "Anything that might still be weighing on your mind?"

Barry looked down, and Henry noticed his hand go to his arm to trace his fingers over one of his scars there, but Henry couldn't see it from where he was sitting.

"No," Barry said in a quiet voice, "There's nothing."

Henry could tell there was something more, but he let it go. His son would tell him more when he was ready.

* * *

Even though they were starting to feel safer about leaving Barry home alone now, he still went to STAR Labs most days. He needed to work on his "project" whenever he could now. He couldn't afford to waste time. He knew he had to be patient, but at the same time, he couldn't allow too much time to pass or he would be risking letting one of them get away. He had to stay on top of things.

"Huh, you must be really finicky with those code designs," Cisco said, looking over Barry's shoulder at the computer screen in the cortex, "You don't have that much done."

"Well, I'm not a wiz of a computer tech like you," Barry said dismissively with a somewhat nervous laugh, "And I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I've been taking my time with the coding to get it right."

Barry could feel himself starting to sweat. He knew they would eventually find it strange that he spent so much time on his software project but didn't have much progress to show for it.

Cisco just laughed, though.

"I'm just giving you a hard time, man," he said, "I'm the same way. I always drag my feet on my projects, too. I always want to make sure I program everything perfectly."

Barry let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His relief was short-lived, however, because a moment later Cisco suddenly gasped, his eyes widening as he looked at the computer screen. Barry tensed up again immediately.

"Oh, my God, Barry!" Cisco said suddenly.

"What?" Barry asked nervously.

Had Cisco seen something about what he was really doing on the computers? Barry was always really careful about hiding the files and not leaving anything open for them to find, but maybe he had missed something.

"I know what you're really doing here!" Cisco said loudly.

"What do you mean?" Barry asked worriedly.

Cisco laughed and pointed excitedly at the screen.

"You're creating Gideon!" he said excitedly.

Barry instantly felt relieved, and then the feeling was replaced by confusion. He let out a small laugh.

"What?" he said, "You mean Eobard's computer assistant? No, I'm not. I'm making a simulation program."

"Barry, when we talked to Gideon last year, she said that you created her," Cisco said excitedly, "Maybe this is how you start. You said you were programming it to make judgement calls for you. Sounds a lot like AI to me."

"Cisco, it's just a dumb project," Barry said dismissively, "It's hardly some revolutionary software that's going to change the world."

Cisco just laughed.

"Okay, whatever you say, man," he said, letting it go for now.

"Where's Caitlin?" Barry asked suddenly, realizing he hadn't seen in her in over an hour.

Cisco's smile waivered slightly, but he pulled it right back onto his face as he said, "She's meeting an old friend for lunch. She won't be back until later."

Barry frowned at him. Something wasn't right about Cisco's forced smile. Barry's habit of watching peoples' every move and analyzing everything they did came in handy sometimes. It made him more observant. He noticed every twitch, every change of expression. He was much better at telling when people were lying, and Cisco was definitely lying to him right now.

The old Barry would have fallen for it. He wouldn't have noticed Cisco's eyes looking briefly away from him. He would have trusted and believed him whole-heartedly. Now, he wasn't so quick to believe everything. He wasn't as naïve as he used to be, wasn't as quick to trust people.

Cisco was lying to him. Barry knew that. What he didn't know, was _why_?

* * *

"You can't work with Holland when Barry's in the building anymore," Cisco said urgently.

Caitlin was a bit taken aback.

"Why?" she asked nervously, "Did he overhear something? She and I never left the pipeline. I just brought my laptop down there this time."

"No, Barry still has no clue about Dr. Holland," Cisco assured her, "But the guy isn't stupid. He might be a bit emotionally challenged now, but Barry's still smart. He's going to figure it out eventually, especially when you just randomly disappear in the middle of the day to go work with that monster."

Caitlin sighed.

"I don't like the situation any more than you do, Cisco," she said tiredly, "Don't you think this is hard for me, too? I can hardly stand to look at her, and now I have no choice but to work with her. If she wasn't here, then I would have to go through all of these videos and files by myself, and I don't think I'd be able to do that. You haven't seen the videos, Cisco. You have no idea how hard they are to watch."

Cisco put his hands up defensively.

"Hey, I never said that you _liked_ it. I just said that you need to be more careful about how you do it. From now on, we should only be working with her when Barry's not in the building. It's too risky to do it when he's here."

"Alright," Caitlin agreed, "You're right. We shouldn't be pushing our luck. We'll just have to wait to work on our case against Eiling when Barry isn't in the lab."

"He's not going to be here tomorrow," Cisco told her, "They're going to try taking him to Jitters tomorrow."

"Perfect," Caitlin said, trying not to let her guilt consume her.

It still felt like they were betraying Barry or something, even if they were only keeping him in the dark for his own wellbeing. It still felt like a betrayal.


	15. Need vs Want

**Need vs Want**

* * *

David Singh looked extremely pale by the time Joe paused the video. He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"And you said there were hundreds of these?" he asked Joe incredulously.

Joe nodded.

"Dr. Snow and Dr. Holland are still going through them to find the most incriminating ones to use against Eiling," he said, "There's a lot for them to go through, though."

The captain nodded thoughtfully, his eyes drifting back towards the screen, which had been paused on Barry's face. The terror and pain in the young man's eyes made Singh's stomach churn.

"How's Barry doing now?" he asked quietly, still looking at the screen.

A part of him still couldn't believe that what he had just watched was real, that this had really happened to the young CSI.

"Still recovering," Joe answered tersely, "But he's getting there. He's made a lot of progress."

"That's good," the captain said quietly, looking away from the screen to face Joe, his eyes filled with anger, "We'll get the bastards that did this to him, Joe. I promise."

Joe nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, David."

* * *

Barry's visit to Jitters went extremely well. He was nervous and on edge as they walked into the familiar café, but he calmed down significantly when they sat down at a small, secluded corner table. Iris and Henry stayed with him while Joe went up to approach the counter to get their coffees. They thought it would be better than having one of the baristas approach their table for their orders. Barry seemed much more at ease than he had been in the restaurant.

When Joe returned with their coffees, he set them all down on the table in front of everybody. Iris gave him a worried look when she saw them. That's when he realized he had ordered four Flashes. It's what they usually got when they came here, and he hadn't thought anything of it when he ordered it, but now he was nervous to see how Barry would react when he saw the lightning bolt shaped foam in his coffee.

They all had been careful not to mention anything Flash-related around Barry. They weren't sure how he felt about it, and they didn't know if he ever planned to go back to being the Flash one day. They didn't even know if they wanted him to or not, but they knew one thing: They certainly weren't going to pressure him to.

The other three watched Barry nervously to see how he would react to the Flash-themed coffee, but Barry didn't react in the slightest. He just took the cup in his hands and took a tentative sip to see how hot it was.

"Mmm," he moaned, "I've seriously missed coffee."

They all let out a sigh of relief, and each of them reached out to take their own cups of coffee. Barry was doing very well. It helped that there were no curious waitresses approaching their table to "check" on them.

It also helped that they weren't eating anything. Barry didn't have to worry about silverware or any of that. He was able to just sit contently and sip his coffee. He had meant it when he said he had seriously missed coffee during those nine weeks in the lab. Caffeine had absolutely no effect on him, but he still found that just the taste of coffee gave him a mental boost.

Having all the people around him didn't seem to bother him as much as they thought it would. Maybe because they were mostly people that Barry knew. He was familiar with most of the baristas that worked there and the usuals that went there frequently. Barry still watched them all carefully, but he didn't look as uncomfortable as he had back in the restaurant with its noisy bar and catty waitresses pointing and laughing at him. Iris had been right. Jitters was a much better place to take him.

* * *

Barry's self-confidence increased exponentially after his successful outing to Jitters. Slowly, they started taking him to other places, usually quiet places like Jitters where he wouldn't be too overwhelmed. Barry seemed to get more and more comfortable about leaving the house. Actually _talking_ to strangers out in public was still difficult for him, but now he could at least be around them without feeling like he was going to have a breakdown.

He was also improving more with his running. Caitlin was confident now that Barry would be safe to start running on his own now, outside of STAR Labs. Barry didn't go for laps around the city like he used to, though. He didn't want people seeing his lightning and thinking that the Flash had returned when he hadn't. Barry, himself, didn't know if he was ever going to be the Flash again. He just didn't see himself as a hero anymore. He was only a victim. He hadn't even been able to protect himself, so how was he supposed to be responsible for protecting other people? If he put on that suit again, he was only going to do more harm than good. It was all he had ever done.

Barry did, however, run to and from home and STAR Labs. He felt so free to be able to go places on his own now. He didn't have to rely on the others to drive him anywhere. He wasn't constantly being babysat like he was before. They were starting to trust him to be on his own now—to be independent.

It wasn't long before Joe was even dropping hints about Barry returning to work. Barry wasn't sure how he felt about that idea yet. He wasn't sure if he would ever feel ready to face everyone at the station again. For so long, the idea seemed so impossible to him. Now, even if he _was_ ready, he still had it in his head that he couldn't do it. He couldn't go back to his normal life with his normal day job. That was impossible, right?

"I'm not going to pressure you, Bar," Joe told him sincerely, "If you don't ever go back to work, that's fine with me. I only bring it up, though, because I honestly think it would be good for you. I think it's the next step in your recovery."

Barry sighed.

"I guess it's just that I don't know what to expect," he said, "I don't know _how_ to go back into working at the CCPD."

"Bar, it's not like Singh and I are going to throw you to the sharks," Joe said reasonably, "We know that you have to ease into it. Actually, I was asking the captain about it the other day, and he said it would be quite a while before you'd be back to working full time on your own in your lab like you were before."

"What do you mean?" Barry asked nervously, "What would I be doing until then?"

"He didn't really go into details," Joe said, scratching his head, "He said you'd probably be working with another CSI, probably the same guy who's filling in right now in the forensics department."

"I would have to work with a partner?" Barry asked, not really caring for that idea.

"Singh said the guy never leaves his office," Joe assured him, "You would probably still have the lab all to yourself. He would probably just go out to the crime scenes for you to collect evidence. I'm assuming that's something you're not going to be up for right away, so it'll be nice to have someone to do that part for you, and you can just stay in the lab and process the evidence. It would keep things as simple as possible."

Barry frowned as he mulled it all over.

"I guess that doesn't sound too terrible," he said quietly.

Truthfully, it actually sounded pretty good. Going to crime scenes was a part of the job that Barry wasn't really looking forward to getting back into. It would be really nice actually to just stay in the lab and run his tests without having to leave the safety of his workspace.

"Singh told me we would take it in steps if you decided to come back," Joe told him, "We would take it all very slowly."

"What would be the first step?" Barry asked nervously.

Joe paused for a minute.

"He would want you to talk to someone first."

"What?" Barry said, not fully understanding what Joe was saying.

"Well," Joe said slowly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, "It's kind of company policy that when someone has been through something like what you have been through, they would have to pass a psych eval before being allowed to return to work."

"A psych eval?" asked Barry, "You mean like with a psychiatrist?"

Joe nodded slowly.

"Oh, no," Barry said immediately, "No way, Joe."

"Bar…"

"You know how I feel about therapists, Joe," Barry said firmly, "You promised me you would never make me see one again."

"This is different now, Barry," Joe said seriously, "You're not a kid anymore, and this isn't about what happened to you as a child. This is about what happened to you as an adult."

"Joe," Barry said in a strained voice, "I wasn't crazy then, and I'm not crazy now."

"Barry, I have never once thought you were crazy," Joe said firmly, "Seeing a psychiatrist doesn't mean you're crazy. It just means that you've been through a lot, and maybe it would be good if you had someone else to help you work through it all. It doesn't have to mean anything. It wouldn't hurt to try it."

"I _really_ don't want to, Joe," Barry told him.

"Well, I'm not going to force you, Bar," Joe said with a sigh, "I just want you to think about it. The captain said it's company policy that you pass a psych evaluation before returning to work. There's not really a way around it. I'll give you time to think it over, but there aren't really any other options if you're planning on returning to work."

Barry sighed heavily.

"Alright," he said, "I'll do it. I'll see a therapist."

Joe gave him a relieved smile.

"But I'm only doing it until I pass the eval," Barry said firmly, "I'm not going to keep going after that."

"Okay, Bar," Joe agreed.

Joe didn't know how to feel about it. He desperately hoped that talking to a professional would help Barry, but he didn't really know how much help it would be, considering how Barry wouldn't be able to tell them everything. Even with doctor-patient confidentiality laws, they just couldn't risk letting another person in on the secret, especially a stranger. Despite his hopefulness, Joe was also apprehensive about Barry seeing a psychiatrist. He was worried it would maybe just make him worse. Barry had never responded well to his therapists when he was a kid after his mom had died, or even a few years later when he was a teenager and Joe sent him back to therapy when he started having problems.

Joe just hoped things would be different now.

* * *

Captain Singh set everything up with the therapist. He told them Dr. Jenson was an excellent psychologist, and he thought he would be the best person to take on Barry's unique case. They had the doctor come over to the house, thinking that it would probably be best that Barry was in a familiar and comfortable setting for his therapy session.

Dr. Jenson was a slightly older man with short salt and pepper hair and large glasses that took up most of his face. He looked like a very friendly person. He had a kind face, and as they were all leaving the room to give them some privacy, Joe thought that maybe this would actually work out well.

It took a little while for Dr. Jenson to get Barry to open up to him. Barry wasn't much of a talker, and it was clear that he was not happy about the situation. He was clearly very uncomfortable.

"I want to get to know you first, Barry," Dr. Jenson said kindly, "I want you to tell me more about yourself. Before we start talking about your trauma, I want to get a feel for who you are first. We don't have to jump right in right away."

Barry shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

"I don't really know who I am anymore," Barry said honestly, "I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"That's okay," Dr. Jenson assured him, "I'm here to help you figure it all out."

Barry nodded and looked down. This guy wasn't going to be able to help him. No one could.

"I want to get to know you, Barry," Dr. Jenson said gently, "I want you to understand that I know you are more than your PTSD, and I want to get to know who _you_ are, too. We don't have to talk about what happened to you right away."

Barry nodded gratefully. He still wasn't quite comfortable, though. He was grateful about not having to talk about the lab right away, but he didn't really want to talk about himself either.

"Tell me about your family," Dr. Jenson suggested, "What is your family life like at home?"

Barry shook his head in confusion.

"You mean now?" he asked, "Or before?"

"Either one," the doctor answered.

Barry sighed.

"I've always been really close with my family," he said, "Joe took me in when I was eleven, and he and Iris have done so much to help me through everything. I don't know what I would have done without them in my life."

"What about your father?" the doctor asked, noticing how Barry then shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I don't know," he said, "My relationship with my dad has always been complicated. When I was a kid, he was always such a fun and happy father. He was a completely different person then than he is now after everything that he's been through. The entire time he was in prison, I visited him regularly. I never let my relationship with him fade during that time. He and I stayed very close. We've always been close."

"How have things changed with him since he got out of prison?" Dr. Jenson asked curiously.

Barry paused and thought for a minute before answering.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "I guess we're still figuring that out. For so long, for me, everything revolved around getting my dad out of prison. It was all I really cared about, and it consumed my life for quite a while. Now that he's out, we've had to reestablish our relationship. Before, everything was about that, about getting him out. Now I don't really know where we stand with each other."

"Have the two of you gotten a chance to make up for some of that lost time?" Dr. Jenson asked him as he wrote on his clipboard.

Barry tried not to let that make him uncomfortable as he answered the doctor.

"Not really," Barry answered truthfully, "He left town shortly after he got out. I didn't hear from him much after that. He didn't even know about my…abduction until well after I had gotten home. He's been off the grid for months."

"How did that make you feel?" the doctor asked, "To have him leave like that. How did you feel about that?"

"I know he had his reasons," Barry said quickly, "He wasn't trying to hurt me by leaving. He's a good dad."

"I know, Barry," Dr. Jenson said gently, "I didn't say he was a bad dad. I just asked you how his leaving made you feel."

Barry ducked his head down.

"I don't know," he said quietly, "Abandoned, I guess. I felt like I had finally gotten everything I had ever wanted. My dad was finally free, and then within a few days, he was out of my life again. More than he was before. He just up and left, just like that."

"Did you feel cheated?" Dr. Jenson asked, "Like you weren't given the reunion you thought you would?"

Barry nodded.

"My whole life, I imagined what it would be like to have my dad free. To be able to spend time with him. No glass between us. No phones. No time limit. Just me and my dad with an endless amount of time to share. We never really got that, though. He left town so quickly."

"Do you have any residual anger towards him yet?" Dr. Jenson asked, "Do you feel like you resent him for that?"

Barry sighed.

"I don't really want to talk about this anymore," he said in a small voice.

Dr. Jenson nodded in understanding.

"Alright, Barry," he said, "Why don't you tell me about your friends then? You have friends at STAR Labs, don't you?"

And so on it went. Dr. Jenson talked with Barry for a few hours, asking him questions about his family life, and life at home, his relationships with his friends, his hobbies, his work. To Barry's surprise—and relief—he didn't really get into the talking about the lab at all. He said they would save that for the next session.

Barry was grateful that they hadn't gotten into the heavy stuff yet, but he was apprehensive now about their next session. He was just starting to really open up to the doctor, and now he would have to wait a few days before they would talk again. As Dr. Jenson was leaving, Barry wasn't sure how he felt about him. He didn't really see the point in talking about all of this with someone. He didn't really see the point in therapists at all. Then again, he hadn't ever really given them a chance.

With a jolt, Barry realized that he had actually said quite a bit to Dr. Jenson. He had actually somewhat opened up to him, and that was something that he still had trouble doing with his own family. Maybe there was something to this therapy stuff after all.

Maybe it was easier to say these things to a stranger than it was to someone he loved.

* * *

Barry's nightmares had improved slightly. Every once in while now, he could actually get through a night without a single nightmare. Most nights, however, he woke up at least a couple times in a sweat, and it often took him a while to calm down enough to get back to sleep.

Sometimes, every once in a while, it would be too much, and Barry would know that trying to fall back asleep would be pointless. It was then that he would get out of bed and go to sit at his desk. He always had to resist the urge to go to the bathroom to drink from the faucet. He knew that never ended well, and it was an unhealthy coping tactic that he should try to avoid.

Reading often helped Barry to escape from his thoughts. He didn't know why, but reading about someone else's problems helped him forget about his own. Although, his choice of book probably wasn't the best thing for him to be reading at the moment. No matter how many times he read it, _The Count of Monte Cristo_ never failed to have a satisfying calming effect on him. He felt the pain of Edmond Dantes right alongside the character as he read. He understood it. He understood the man's thirst for vengeance, his need to punish those who had wronged him so terribly.

There was one lesson from the book that bothered him, though.

You can't hurt the ones you hate without also hurting the ones you love.

Barry wanted to ignore that aspect of the book, but he couldn't. He knew it was true. He knew that his secretive plotting and his plans were going to also hurt the ones closest to him. It was inevitable. Barry wanted to keep them out of it. He wanted to find a way that he could get justice without also hurting them in the process. He hadn't quite found a way to do that yet, though.

"Barry?" Iris's voice suddenly sounded from behind him.

Barry turned. He looked over at her, surprised to see her standing in his doorway. It was four in the morning.

"Hey," he said quietly to her.

"What are you doing up?" she asked him, coming further into his room to sit on the edge of his bed, next to his desk where he was sitting.

"Couldn't sleep," he answered simply, closing his book and setting it down.

Iris nodded sympathetically, glancing at the familiar book on his desk and then back at Barry.

"You look exhausted, though," she stated, peering into his face, taking in the bags under his eyes.

"I am," he said truthfully, "I just…can't stop thinking."

"About the lab?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

He nodded silently and then let out a heavy sigh.

"So what are you doing up at this time?" he asked her, not wanting to talk about the lab.

She seemed to study his face for a moment longer before shrugging in reply.

"Couldn't sleep," she mimicked, "You're not the only one who can't stop thinking tonight."

He gave her a small, crooked smile at that.

"What are you thinking about?" Barry asked her.

She hesitated a moment before answering.

"The same thing you are, I guess," she said quietly.

Barry stared at her for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, "I get so wrapped up in myself, I forget sometimes. You were being held captive there, too, and you've also been through a lot."

"Barry, don't," she said quickly, "That's not what I meant. I'm perfectly fine. Nothing happened to me when we were there. It's like those bastards saved it all for you. The only thing that haunts me now is everything I saw that was done to you…and everything I _didn't_ see."

Barry looked away from her and stared at the desk rather than look her in the eye.

"You know what the worst part about being in lab five was?" he said quietly, still not looking at her.

Iris leaned forward, intent to hear what he had to say. He didn't normally talk openly about all of this. It was rare.

"What?" she whispered, staring at his face.

He finally turned his head to look at her again.

"It was not knowing," he said, "I didn't know where you all were, what had been done to you, if you were even alive…"

Barry sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"I thought they had killed you," he said shakily, "I thought they had killed all of you. I thought I was alone, that I had lost everything."

"Oh, Barry," Iris said, also wiping her eyes, "You're not alone. We're not going anywhere. We're all together now, and it's going to stay that way."

"Yeah," Barry said quietly, "Right."

He felt a twinge of guilt. The truth was, he wasn't sure if he was planning on sticking around. He had never strayed far from Central City before, but he thought maybe that was what he needed now. He didn't necessarily want to leave, but he knew it would be messy if he stayed. He didn't want his family around for what was next to come. There was no doubt, it wasn't going to be pretty. He didn't want them there to see everything he had to do in order to move on. He wanted to keep them separate from that part of him. The part of him that thirsted for vengeance.

"What is it, Bar?" Iris asked him sadly, knowing something more was wrong from the anguished expression on his face.

"Nothing," Barry assured her quietly, standing up and looking away from her as he returned his book back to the shelf, "There's nothing to worry about."

He felt so guilty, guilty he was keeping so much from her, from all of them. He didn't want to see the looks on their faces if they knew what he was planning to do. They would be disgusted with him. They wouldn't understand it.

Iris surveyed him thoughtfully for a moment or two before suddenly speaking.

"Barry, can I try something?"

He turned where he stood to look at her questioningly, momentarily distracted from his dark thoughts.

"I want to give you a hug," she said nervously, "If it's okay with you. If it's not too much, I just want to try it."

Barry considered her for a moment. In a way, Barry craved the comfort of another person's touch. He craved the intimacy and the security that came with a hug. He had always been a hugger. It was just a part of who he was. He definitely wasn't one now. It was just another part of him that had been taken from him, and that thought always saddened him. Now, the idea of a simple hug terrified him. He missed the feeling of another person's arms wrapping securely around him, but at the same time, he wanted to have a panic attack just thinking about it. The conflicting feelings were starting to confuse him further, so without thinking, Barry slowly nodded.

Iris was shocked at first by his agreement, but a second later she stood up and took a step closer to him. She tried to move slowly so as not to scare him. Slowly, _very_ slowly, Iris moved so that she was close enough to touch him. She carefully brought her arms up to wrap them gently around Barry. He flinched. He couldn't help it. The second she touched him, he jolted slightly.

She started to pull away but stopped when Barry spoke.

"It's okay," he whispered, "I'm okay."

She stayed where she was, her body close to his but not quite touching, her arms gently wrapped around him with her hands just barely touching his back. She could feel Barry shudder underneath her touch, but she stayed where she was, holding him loosely enough that he could pull away easily if he wanted to. Slowly, torturously slowly, Barry brought his own arms up to wrap them around her in return. His movements were tentative, hesitant, but eventually, Iris felt his arms around her, lightly returning her hug.

Barry was shaking, and she could tell that he wasn't breathing. He was so conflicted right now, confused between what he needed and what he wanted. He needed the hug, but he didn't know if he wanted it.

Iris was shocked when Barry's grip suddenly tightened. In a single sudden movement, Barry suddenly pulled her closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her neck. It was the last thing she had been expecting him to do. After her brief moment of shock had worn off, Iris also strengthened the hug, squeezing Barry with her arms wrapped around him.

She had hugged Barry countless times in all the time that she had known him, but she had never hugged him quite like this. He had never clung to her like this. He had never cried silently into her shoulder like he was doing now. For months Barry hadn't been able to touch any of them, and he seemed to be making up for all of that time in one single hug. His grip was desperate and filled with emotion. He hadn't realized just how much he needed this, how much he needed the contact and the closeness with another person—how much he had needed a hug.


	16. What has Hands but Can't Clap?

**What Has Hands but Can't Clap?**

* * *

"Tell me about the lab, Barry," Dr. Jenson said gently, "You don't have to be too detailed or anything—we can get into all that later—but just tell me something about it. Anything."

Barry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had known this was coming, known that they would have to talk about it eventually. The thought still scared him, though.

"I don't know what to talk about," Barry said quietly.

"Tell me about your abductors," Dr. Jenson suggested, "What were they like?"

Barry shuddered when he thought about them. The scientists' faces suddenly swam before his eyes, and Barry's chest constricted at the thought.

"I don't really want to talk about them," Barry said shakily.

"Okay," Dr. Jenson said understandingly, "How about the lab itself then? What can you tell me about that?"

"It was…" Barry started, not knowing what to say, "…clean. Everything was very white and clean all the time. It always smelled like antiseptic."

"Okay," Dr. Jenson said, nodding encouragingly, "What else can you tell me about it?"

"I don't know," Barry said uncomfortably, "There were always people in it. I was rarely ever alone in the lab."

"Where did they keep you when you weren't in the lab?" Dr. Jenson asked him.

"Nowhere," Barry answered flatly, "I never left the lab. I was always in there."

"The whole time?" Dr. Jenson asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Barry nodded.

"How were you kept there?" Dr. Jenson asked after a moment.

Barry shook his head in confusion.

"I don't understand the question," he said.

"I mean," Dr. Jenson elaborated, "Were you simply locked in there? Were you tied up? How did they keep you in there?"

"They…strapped me down," Barry said quietly, "To a table. I was strapped down to a table."

Dr. Jenson paused. He seemed to be trying to control his facial expressions.

"The entire time?" he asked after a moment, "You never left the table?"

Barry shook his head.

"They sometimes would take me off the table to do MRIs," he said, "But that's about it."

"MRIs?" Dr. Jenson asked, "What for?"

Barry suddenly realized his mistake. The doctor thought that he had simply been tortured. He didn't know about the experiments. Barry didn't really know what to tell him now.

"They didn't just torture me," Barry admitted, deciding to just tell the truth, "They were running tests on me. Experiments."

"What kinds of experiments?" Dr. Jenson asked quietly, his eyes going just a little bit wider, "For what purpose?"

"I don't know," Barry lied, "I guess they just needed somebody to use as a lab rat, someone to run their tests on."

"What tests did they run on you?" the doctor asked, "What did they do to you?"

"A lot," Barry answered simply, "The experiments were very…invasive. There were a lot of surgeries, a lot of procedures."

"Barry, that's…terrible," Dr. Jenson said quietly.

For once, the doctor seemed to be at a loss for words. He had worked with some pretty interesting patients, but no one who had a trauma quite like Barry's.

"I understand how that would still affect you even now," the doctor said, "Something like that…it stays with a person."

Barry nodded silently, looking down at his lap instead of at the doctor. He could feel Dr. Jenson's eyes on him, surveying him.

"How do you feel about that now?" the doctor asked quietly after a moment, "How do you feel when you think about what was done to you there?"

"Angry," Barry said immediately, looking up at the doctor.

Then he took a deep breath and continued.

"Broken. Damaged. Violated. I feel like I'm not me anymore. Like they created this version of me. I'm what they turned me _into_."

"And what is that, Barry?" Dr. Jenson asked calmly, "What do you think they turned you into?"

Barry opened his mouth to reply, but then he paused. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I don't know," he muttered, looking away again.

Dr. Jenson nodded, knowing that was all Barry was really going to say on the subject.

"Okay, then," he said, writing something down on his clipboard before looking up again, "Can we talk about the water, Barry?"

Barry looked at him with wide eyes.

"The water?"

"Your family tells me you seem to have a preoccupation with water," Dr. Jenson said lightly, "Why is that? Can you tell me about it?"

Barry looked down and blushed.

"It's not a big deal," he muttered.

"From what I've heard, it is," the doctor said gently, "They tell me you've been drinking yourself sick."

Barry's fists clenched.

"I don't do that anymore," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaky.

"Okay," Dr. Jenson said, writing on his clipboard again, "Can you tell me why you did it before then?"

Barry sighed.

"I don't know," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, "The water made me feel better. It made me feel…"

"Safe?" Dr. Jenson supplied, "In control?"

Barry nodded silently.

"How about after?" the doctor asked, "Did you feel better afterwards?"

Barry shook his head slowly.

"No," he said quietly, "It made me feel worse. It…"

Dr. Jenson waited for Barry to continue, but he didn't.

"Finish your sentence, Barry," Dr. Jenson said gently, "It's okay. What were you going to say?"

"It made me feel weak," Barry admitted, "Afterwards. After I was done throwing up, it always made me feel weak and pathetic, like I was broken."

Dr. Jenson nodded understandingly.

"Barry," he said quietly, "Do you understand what self-harm is?"

Barry looked at the doctor in shock.

"I didn't do it to hurt myself," he said immediately, "I wasn't trying to make myself sick on purpose."

"I understand," Dr. Jenson said kindly, "I just had to make sure that that wasn't what this was about."

Barry shook his head.

"No," he said, "It's not like that."

Dr. Jenson surveyed Barry for a moment, writing a few more notes down on his clipboard.

"Barry," he said seriously, "You don't have to talk about this yet if you don't feel ready, but I have to ask you about it…"

Dr. Jenson took a deep breath before continuing.

"Can you tell me about your suicide attempt?" he asked cautiously, "Can you tell me what was going through your mind that day?"

"I didn't try to commit suicide," Barry said loudly, leaning forward in his chair, "I never went through with it."

"Yes," Dr. Jenson said quickly, "Of course. I know you didn't."

Barry leaned back again, calming down.

"But you were close, Barry," Dr. Jenson said gently, "You were on the ledge that day for a reason. You were close."

Barry didn't deny it. He didn't say anything. He just crossed his arms uncomfortably and looked away. Really, the reason he was so angry and defensive was because he knew deep down that he _did_ try to kill himself. It just didn't happen on that day. He did try to take his own life when he was still in the lab, something he never wanted his family or even his doctor to know about.

"Can you tell me what was going through your head that day?" Dr. Jenson asked carefully, asking about the day that Barry had gone to Natal's Cliff.

He approached the subject cautiously, seeing that Barry was starting to close up.

"I don't know," Barry answered quietly, "I was overwhelmed."

"What was overwhelming you?" the doctor asked curiously.

"Everything," Barry said, looking at his hands in his lap, "I felt like everyone was expecting so much from me. They all wanted me to go back to normal like I was before. I'm just not the same person anymore, and I'm never going to be."

"You're right," Dr. Jenson said.

Barry looked at him, shocked by his reply. No one had ever agreed with him about that before. They had all assured him that he would find his way back to them.

"You're right, Barry," Dr. Jenson said again, "You're never going to be the same person after everything you've been through. That's just the truth of it."

Barry nodded. Finally, someone was blunt enough to admit it and say it out loud to his face.

"Some people," Barry said quietly, "When they break, they can't be put back together again."

"Some people heal even stronger," Dr. Jenson countered instantly, "Just because you won't be the same person, Barry, it doesn't mean that you have be a worse one. What you've been through doesn't have to make you weak. It can actually help you grow as a person. It's up to you to decide how you let it affect you."

Barry sat in silence for a moment as he thought about that.

"I guess I never thought about it that way before," he said quietly, "I've been so focused on trying to move past this, I never considered that it could make me stronger, that I could learn from it."

"From what I can tell, you've always seen the positive side to everything," the doctor said, "Don't lose that now, Barry. You can still find flickers of light amongst all of that darkness."

Barry nodded and gave the doctor a small, rare smile.

"Thank you," he said, "You make me feel like there's still hope."

"There _is,_ Barry," Dr. Jenson assured him.

He shifted slightly in his chair then before continuing.

"Barry, I just need to be sure," he said slowly, his voice cautious again, "You don't still have those feelings now, do you? Do you still have any thoughts about harming yourself?"

"No," Barry assured him quickly, "I don't have those thoughts anymore. You don't have to worry about that."

"Okay," Dr. Jenson said lightly, giving Barry a surveying look, "Will you tell me if they return? Will you let me know if you feel the need to do that again?"

"I will," Barry said, "I promise."

* * *

Joe had gotten quite used to waking up to the sound of screaming. The second he heard it, he was usually out of bed within seconds and on his way to Barry's room. Some nights it was just a small whimpering sound he heard from the room. Other nights it was sobbing. Some nights, however, like tonight, it was terrible blood curdling screams that make the hairs on the back of Joe's neck stand on end.

He collided with both Iris and Henry in the hallway outside Barry's bedroom, all three of them having reached the door at the same time.

"I've got this one," Joe said to the other two.

"Are you sure?" Henry said when Barry let out another terrible scream.

It had been at least a week or so since it had been this bad.

"Yeah, I've got it," Joe insisted, "You two go back to bed. We probably shouldn't crowd him right now with all three of us."

Henry and Iris both nodded and returned to their rooms. Joe turned and took a deep breath before entering Barry's room. As he entered, Barry let out what was probably one of the most agonizing sounds Joe had ever heard in his life. It was halfway between a cry and a scream, and the sound seemed to pierce right through Joe's heart. Tears were streaming down Barry's face, and he was thrashing horribly in bed.

"Barry!" Joe shouted, trying to wake him up by yelling without touching him, "Barry, wake up!"

"I'm sorry!" Barry yelled in his sleep, "I'm sorry! I know I deserve it! I know! Please! Please don't punish me anymore! Please!"

"Barry, it's not real!" Joe said loudly, "It's not real, son."

Barry continued to whimper and sob. Joe took another step closer to him, but he jumped and stopped in his tracks when Barry let out another long, bone-chilling scream. Barry's entire body seemed to tense up like he was in pain, his limbs all straining against the imaginary pain that, to Barry, felt so very real.

"Barry, please wake up!" Joe shouted desperately.

With no other option available to him, Joe had no choice but to reach out and shake Barry's shoulder. He usually only touched Barry if it was absolutely necessary, and it seemed necessary right now. When Barry was like this, when the nightmares were this intense, Barry couldn't be woken up by shouting alone.

After shaking him and shouting at him to wake up for a few minutes, Barry's eyes finally opened. Joe released him instantly and took a step back, giving him space.

"It's okay, Bar," Joe assured him, "It was just a dream."

Barry didn't say anything at first. All he could do was sit up in bed and try to regain control of his breathing. He was covered in sweat.

"Thanks," Barry said breathlessly after a moment.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked, looking Barry over, "Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," Barry said flatly, laying back in bed again.

"Are you sure?" Joe asked, "You don't want anything? Water? A shower?"

"I'm good, Joe," Barry insisted, "I just want to forget about it and go back to sleep, alright?"

"Okay," Joe said unsurely.

With one last worried look at Barry, he started to turn towards the door.

"Joe," Barry said, stopping him.

Joe paused and turned back to look at him.

"Could you stay?" Barry asked sheepishly, "I don't…I don't want to be alone anymore."

Joe felt tears form in his eyes as he gave Barry a small smile.

"Of course, Bar," he said quietly.

He grabbed a chair and pulled it close to the bed, taking a seat next to Barry. Barry had never asked this of him before. He had never asked for Joe to stay with him. He had never asked for any kind of company before. Usually he seemed to prefer to be alone.

Joe placed his hand on the bed next to Barry. He was close enough to him to make him feel safe but not touching him so as not to make him uncomfortable. The last thing Joe expected was to suddenly feel Barry's hand slide hesitantly into his own. Joe froze in shock when he felt Barry's fingers slip into his hand to wrap around his. Barry gripped his hand gently, almost tentatively. He was staring up at Joe with wide, watery eyes and an unsure look on his face. After Joe's brief moment of shock had worn off he gave Barry's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and he felt Barry's grip become more firm in response.

Joe's heart swelled as Barry then closed his eyes, looking just a little bit more at ease. Barry had initiated the contact, not him. He was starting to crave company and human interaction. He wasn't just retreating into himself anymore, but instead was starting to let them in, starting to trust them. Barry was starting to rely on people again. Not books. Not water or excessively long showers.

 _People._

* * *

After three weeks of frequent therapy sessions, Dr. Jenson finally cleared Barry as psychologically stable. He stated he felt confident that Barry would be okay to return to work, as long as he was properly supervised and his work load wasn't too strenuous as he readjusted.

Barry was both relieved and a little nervous about being able to go back to work. A part of him was looking forward to it. Another part of him was a little afraid. He was afraid that he wasn't ready, that maybe it would be better if he waited. He knew that wasn't true, though. At this point, waiting wouldn't help him. At this point, he needed to just do it. He had to just dive in and try his best not to drown. At least he had Joe there for support and to help him keep his head above water as he readjusted.

"Are you sure about this, Bar?" Joe asked him seriously, "We can go home if you don't feel ready. I don't want you to feel pressured into doing this if you think it's too soon."

"I'm good," Barry assured him, trying his best to look more confident than he felt, "Let's do this, Joe."

With that, Barry opened his door and exited the vehicle. He waited for Joe to get out of the car,, too, before the two of them walked through the precinct parking lot and entered the CCPD. Barry had gotten a lot better about walking into public places. Iris had even taken him shopping with her one day, and he had done an amazing job being around all the unfamiliar people. This should be easy compared to that. He knew everyone there, and most of them weren't strangers to him. Somehow, though, that also made it harder at the same time.

"Barry!" Detective Liddell exclaimed, approaching the two of them happily.

Barry was thankful when the detective refrained from hugging him. He suspected maybe Joe had told everyone to be careful around him at first. He both appreciated it and resented it. He didn't want them all to think he was fragile or broken. He would have to expect that attitude from them, though, considering they had all been told that he had been captured and tortured for nine long weeks. Of course, they were going to expect weakness from him. They were going to expect him to act like a victim.

"It's so good to see you, kid," the detective said eagerly, "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," Barry answered quietly.

"You look so thin!" Detective Liddell said in shock, "You need to put some more meat on your bones!"

Barry didn't respond but instead shifted awkwardly where he stood. He didn't think he still looked that thin now. He had gained quite a bit of weight back, and he thought he was starting to look healthy now, but maybe over time he had just gotten used to how thin he was. To his coworkers, who hadn't seen him since before his abduction, though, he looked like he had lost a lot of weight. Barry was just glad they didn't see him when he was at his worst, when he was skeletal and emaciated after just getting out of the lab.

Another officer also came up to greet him then.

"Allen," Officer Couture said with a warm smile, "So good to have you back. The CSI that's been covering for you has been driving us all crazy. He doesn't stop giving us riddles all the time. I can't wait to have you running the lab again."

"It might be a while before that happens," Barry muttered, "But thanks."

"What do you mean? You're taking over the lab again, right?" another detective, Detective McGregor, asked him in confusion as he joined the group of officers.

"Not right away," Joe answered for him, "Barry's just going to be working part time for now. He's going to work alongside CSI Nygma for the time being."

"Ugh," Officer Diaz groaned, "I wish that guy would just go back to Gotham where he belongs."

Joe then noticed Barry take a slight step back as yet another officer came forward to greet him. There were six of them there now, and Joe could sense that Barry was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the number of people.

"Good to see you, Barry!" Officer Holmes said when he joined the welcoming group, "It hasn't been quite the same without you here. I'm glad to see you're recovering."

Before anyone could say anything else, though, Joe stepped forward, somewhat putting himself between Barry and the rest of them.

"Thanks, everyone, for being so welcoming," he said kindly, "But I should really get Barry up to the lab now."

He gave them a look that told them all to back off a bit. Thankfully, they all got the message rather quickly.

"Okay," Detective McGregor said immediately, stepping away, "You take it easy, Barry! Let me know if you need anything!"

Barry nodded gratefully, and he seemed to relax slightly once all the other officers backed away from him, most of them returning to their desks. A lot of them were still shooting him curious, furtive glances, though, no doubt looking for cracks in his calm façade.

"You okay?" Joe asked him in concern, eyeing him nervously.

"I'm fine," Barry assured him.

Joe nodded, and after giving Barry one last surveying look, he walked him up to the lab. Hopefully things would be a bit quieter up there, away from everyone else and their prying eyes.

Barry felt a small sense of nostalgia when they walked into his lab. It was different from how he felt when he went home for the first time. He was in a much better place now mentally, and he didn't walk into the lab with any high expectations like he had when he first went home. He was surprised by the warm feeling that spread over him when they walked in. He found himself suddenly very excited to be back there again. His lab had always been like a second home to him, and that almost was how it felt to him now.

Barry frowned suddenly when he looked around the lab. Everything had been moved around. His desk had been moved across the room. His chemicals had all been rearranged on his shelf, and all the lab benches were in different places.

"Why was everything rearranged?" Barry asked, looking around the lab.

"Nygma," Joe muttered, an annoyed expression on his face.

"What?" Barry asked.

"That would be Ed," Joe said in an irritated voice, "Edward Nygma. I told him not to move anything around. I told him very clearly not to."

Barry walked over to his filing cabinets and opened one of the drawers. Everything inside it was all messed up, the files in a completely different order from how he had left them.

"I improved your system," a voice said from the doorway.

Barry looked up from the drawer to see who had entered. A tall man with large, outdated-looking glasses stood in the doorway, a smug grin on his face. He looked only slightly older than Barry, in his early thirties maybe, and he had his dark, greasy hair parted and sleeked to one side. He was looking at Barry with an amused expression on his face.

"Organizationally speaking, this place was a shambles," he said cheerfully, "I took it upon myself to do some rearranging. I improved your filing system, implementing a rhizomatic cross index with your case files classified by subject but arranged more the way a peak moss organism grows. You know…laterally."

He gestured wildly as he rambled with enthusiasm, completely oblivious to the fact that Barry was clearly not happy with all he had done.

"I had this entire room organized," Barry said quietly.

"Yes, but now it will be rhizomatic," the man said enthusiastically, " _Lateral._ "

"Dammit, Nygma! I told you not to rearrange anything," Joe said angrily.

"I was just improving," the man said innocently, "Only trying to help."

"Joe," Barry said quietly, closing the file drawer, "It's fine. I don't mind."

Joe huffed angrily but let it go.

"Barry, this is Edward Nygma," Joe introduced, still shooting glares at the other man, "He'll be your new partner."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Allen," Edward said enthusiastically, sticking his hand out to Barry, "I'm quite familiar with your work, of course. I must say, I'm impressed, and it usually takes a lot to impress me."

Barry stared at Edward's outstretched hand for a moment. He looked over at Joe nervously, not sure what to do. Seeing this, Joe stepped in quickly, moving closer to Edward to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Edward," Joe said, leading him to the doorway, "I'll help Barry get settled in here, and we'll stop by your office downstairs later so you can help catch Barry up with everything."

"Roger Dodger," Edward said cheerfully, letting Joe steer him towards the exit.

He paused in the doorway.

"Oh, hey, Barry," he said suddenly, stopping to turn and look at Barry again, "Real quick. What has hands but can't clap?"

"What?" Barry asked, confused.

"Ugh," Joe groaned, "Not now, Ed."

Edward ignored him, though, and repeated his question.

"What has hands but can't clap?" he asked eagerly.

"Um," Barry said, confused as to why he was being asked this, "A clock?"

Ed grinned at him.

"Oh, I like him," he said to Joe, "I think we're going to get along very well, Mr. Allen."

* * *

 **Edward Nygma is from the show** ** _Gotham_** **. He really isn't going to be a main character in this story. I just put him in here for fun and because I briefly mentioned him in my other story, Crashing, and somebody was wondering if I was going to write a scene of the two quirky CSIs actually meeting each other. I just thought it would be interesting to see him and Barry interact with each other because they're so alike in some ways and so extremely different in others.**

 **Ed is an amazingly complex character, and if you haven't watched Gotham, I recommend watching the Edward Nygma video linked in my profile—if you want to get a feel for the character. He's the only character I like on that show.**


	17. I No Longer Exist

**I No Longer Exist**

* * *

Barry's first day back at work actually went pretty well. Nobody tried to hug him, and besides Mr. Nygma's attempt at a handshake, no one really came close to invading his personal space or making him uncomfortable. No one talked much about his abduction or the torture. The most anyone said about it was them congratulating him on his progress in his recovery and telling him to let them know if he needed anything. Thankfully, nobody asked him many questions.

That is, until Singh walked into the lab.

"Hi, Barry," the captain said, approaching Barry's desk in the otherwise empty lab.

Barry stood up from his desk as he approached.

"Captain," he said, "Thank you so much for letting me come back. I'll try to do my best to get caught up with everything as soon as possible."

"No, I don't want you to do that," the captain said quickly, "I want you to take your time in coming back. Try to take it slowly."

Barry nodded gratefully.

"How are you doing, Barry?" Singh asked, his voice filled with concern as he looked Barry over, taking note of how thin he was.

He knew from the video Joe had showed him that how Barry looked now was nothing compared to how he was when he was first rescued.

"I'm good," Barry said right away, "I wanted to thank you for recommending Dr. Jenson. He's been a big help, even if that's hard for me to admit."

"Of course," the captain said, "He's available to all CCPD employees. If you want to keep seeing him, Barry, you're more than welcome to, even though you've already passed the psych eval. It's covered by the department."

"That's okay, sir," Barry said, "I think I'll be okay."

Singh nodded slowly.

"Well, it's your choice, Barry," he said, "After everything you've been through, it's always good seek professional help. You can't take stuff like this lightly."

"I'm not," Barry assured him, "I really am doing a lot better now."

"Okay," Singh said, not sounding all that convinced.

No one could possibly be completely fine after what he had seen in that video. No one.

Yet here Barry was, standing in his lab, ready to return back to work and acting like everything was completely fine and normal. It sort of threw the captain for a loop. He knew that it had been a few months now since Barry had first been rescued, but after what he had seen on the video, after seeing how desperate and broken Barry had looked, Singh found it hard to believe that it was the same person who was now standing in front of him.

"Barry, if it's okay with you," Singh said, "I wanted to ask you some questions about your abductors."

Barry's face fell.

"What do you want to know?" he asked quietly.

"Do you know what their goal was?" Singh asked, "With the experiments? What were they trying to accomplish?"

Barry shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"I don't know," he said, "They were just trying to study me, get as much information as they could, I guess."

Singh nodded slowly.

"Do you know what Eiling was planning to do with that information, though?" he asked.

Barry shrugged slightly.

"He said he wanted to use me," he said quietly, "He wanted to create more of me."

The captain nodded thoughtfully. He wanted to ask Barry more, wanted to get a full witness statement from him for some firsthand perspective on the case, but Joe had told him that Barry was still unaware of their intention to bring Eiling to court, so the captain refrained from asking more questions. They would bring Barry in on it later on. For now, it was probably better that they just let the kid recover and get his life back together without worrying about a court trial that probably wouldn't be taking place for quite a while yet. It would be a long process, taking down Eiling using the law, and none of them saw the point in making Barry fret over the whole thing as they waited for things to come to a head.

"Okay, well, you just take your time easing back into things," Singh said supportively, noting the look of relief on Barry's face when he didn't ask any more questions, "If Nygma gives you a hard time, just let me know. Really, the guy is harmless. He just doesn't think before he talks sometimes, and he can make some people uncomfortable."

Barry simply nodded.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

He the awkwardly cleared his throat.

"So, ah…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Joe said he told you _everything_."

Singh nodded.

"How I've gone this long without figuring out one of my own employees was the Flash, I don't know," Singh said lightly, "I've been kicking myself ever since Joe told me."

Barry gave him a small, sheepish smile at that.

"I wasn't sure how you would react," Barry admitted, "I knew that would put you in a bad position, knowing who the Flash really was. I didn't want to do that to you."

"You know how I feel about the Flash, Barry," Singh said, "I may not like that we need him, but that doesn't change the fact that we do. I don't care if knowing your identity puts me in a difficult position."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that now," Barry said quietly, "I'm not him anymore."

Barry looked at the floor. Barry Allen might not be dead. On that, he wasn't sure yet, but the Flash. The Flash was dead. That part of him was gone now, and he wasn't coming back.

Singh took a deep breath and placed a hand on Barry's shoulder.

"Just give it time," he said.

Barry's favorite phrase.

After Singh had left the room, Barry went back to his desk, which he was still in the process of reorganizing. The guy had seriously organized his _desk_ for him. It seemed that Nygma had no boundaries at all.

Barry was interrupted then by the appearance of the man himself. Ed stood awkwardly in the doorway, peeking his head in to hover without actually entering the room. He didn't even say anything to announce his presence. He just hovered there, practically lurking. Barry wondered if the guy really thought he couldn't see him.

"What is it now, Ed?" Barry asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Joe had told him that the guy never left his office. Well, that was before he had another CSI to talk to and bother all day. Edward had been in and out of the lab all morning.

Ed jumped and walked into the room then, a wide smile on his face.

"I just came from a scene," he said, "Got some evidence for you to process, Mr. Allen."

"What kind of scene?" Barry asked, looking up from the files he had already been working on.

"If you feed me, I grow," Ed said enthusiastically, "If you give me a drink, I die."

Barry sighed. He was already getting tired of all the riddles, and it was still the first day. This was the fifth time Edward had come into the lab for something, and every time, he recited an excessive amount of riddles.

"Just tell me what it is, Ed," Barry said in exasperation.

Really, it was no wonder why the rest of the force was ready to be rid of Nygma. The man got on your nerves after a while, and there was something really eerie about him.

"You have to guess, Mr. Allen," he said smugly, "Feed me, and I grow. Give me a drink, and I die."

Barry sighed.

"A fire," he said flatly after a moment, "You went to a fire scene."

Ed clapped his hands excitedly.

"You're nine for nine, Mr. Allen," he said, finally setting the file down on Barry's desk so he could look at it, "I'm going to have to start thinking of some harder ones. I'm not used to people solving my riddles so easily."

 _Because they never bother to try to solve them_ , Barry thought to himself.

"Alright, Ed," Barry said, picking up the file, "I'll take a look at it."

Edward simply continued to stand there next to Barry's desk, smiling as he looked down at him.

"Thank you, Ed," Barry said to him, but Nygma still made no move to leave.

He stood there awkwardly, smiling and staring at him.

" _Thank you, Ed_ ," Barry said meaningfully, and Ed seemed to finally get the hint and left the room.

 _Man, that guy is odd,_ Barry thought to himself. There was something just not right about him, something that made Barry uncomfortable.

"Hey," Ed suddenly said, poking his head back into the room, causing Barry to jump a mile, "I have another one for you."

"Ed," Barry groaned, "Please."

"It's a harder one," he said excitedly, "Just listen."

Barry sighed but didn't protest, so Edward went on.

"The dwarves and Snow White sit down for a bite. How fast can you guess what she serves her guests next?"

Barry sighed again.

"I don't know, Ed," he said exhaustedly, "What's the answer?"

Edward grinned at him, proud that he had finally managed to stump Barry.

"Just think about it," he said smugly, "Let me know when you figure it out. The dwarves and Snow White sit down for a bite. How fast can you guess what she serves her guests next?"

Barry rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Alright, I'll think about it," he said flatly.

Ed grinned and finally left the room.

Barry had been nervous about going back to work because he thought being around people again would make him anxious. He didn't think he would have trouble with it because of them annoying him to death. That was before he met Edward Nygma.

* * *

"So, how was your first day back?" Joe asked Barry as they drove home.

Barry had been running most places now days, but Joe wanted to ride together so they could talk.

"It was alright," Barry said, "Better than I thought it was going to be."

"You did really good, Bar," Joe praised him, "You held it together really well."

Barry blushed and looked out the window. He knew Joe was just trying to express how proud he was of him, but Barry sometimes hated the way how Joe's praise made him feel like a little kid. He resisted the urge to sarcastically ask Joe if he was going to get a gold star. He was a grown man. He didn't need to be given so much praise simply for going to work like a normal person.

"Did you feel okay?" Joe asked him, "Were you feeling anxious at all today?"

"Not really," Barry answered truthfully, "I was a bit nervous and all, but I didn't have that much anxiety. The only times when I felt a little bit uncomfortable was when I was with Ed. Something about him…he kind of gives me the creeps to be honest."

Joe laughed lightly at that.

"He gives everyone the creeps," he said, "You'll get used to him after a little while."

* * *

Barry didn't go to work again the next day. It wasn't even that he didn't want to because, actually, he kind of did. He had to stay home because Dr. Jenson had only permitted him to go to work three days a week to start, and the days had to be spaced out, so he was scheduled to work every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for his first month or two back at work. After that, he would have to be re-evaluated for psychological stability and coping effectiveness. Barry understood the reasons for this and knew that it was all just following the legal protocol for law enforcement employees who had suffered physical and psychological abuse as severe as he had. At the same time, though, Barry found it somewhat frustrating and unnecessary.

Barry still had plenty to work on during his days off, though. He had taken quite a bit of work home with him, and he made good use of his time. His dad spent those days at home with him, which made Iris and Joe feel better about leaving. Having Henry around really was a great help and a comfort to them, and, most of the time, to Barry. Sometimes, though, Barry wished he could just be left alone. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with his dad, because he did, but Barry also wanted more time to himself. He wanted to focus on his work, among other _projects_ , and having his father around made that difficult.

Although Barry was starting to actually _want_ his family around him, he felt like he was never alone. He craved human interaction, but at the same time, he craved more independence and solitude. He would be able to have that in his lab if it weren't for Edward and Joe. Joe seemed to constantly be checking on him throughout the day. He did it under the guise of needing the results of small lab tests and following up on evidence analysis, but Barry knew what he was doing.

"Joe, you have to stop," Barry finally said once they had reached the afternoon of his second day back and Joe had entered his lab for the sixth time that day.

"Stop what?" Joe asked innocently as he approached Barry's desk.

"Don't act like you don't know," Barry said in exasperation, "You've been coming in here every hour at least."

"I just needed the results of the GRT," Joe said.

"I already emailed it to you," Barry said, "It was positive."

"Oh," Joe said.

Barry sighed.

"Joe, I really need you to give me a little more space. I can't focus with you constantly coming in here and analyzing me."

"I'm not trying to analyze you, Barry," Joe insisted, "I just worry about you."

"You don't have to," Barry said, "I'm fine. Honestly, the only thing that's stressing me out today is you."

"I'm sorry, Bar," Joe said, "I'm not trying to make it harder for you.

"I know you're not," Barry said, "It's just—Can I help you, Ed?!"

It was at least the fifth time now he had caught Edward lurking in his doorway within the last two workdays, and Barry was starting to lose his patience with the man. He felt guilty, though, when Ed jumped violently and entered the room looking nervous. Barry softened considerably.

"I just had that sample you requested," Ed said, "And you were right, by the way. Good call on having me collect it. I may have already ran a few tests on it, and it looks like your hunch was right. It's a match."

He handed Barry the sample and his test results. Barry had to fight the urge to sigh. Mr. Nygma had clearly never worked with a partner before. He kept running tests for Barry when Barry was more than capable of running them himself. He wondered if Nygma thought he was as fragile and unstable as the rest of them seemed to think. Or maybe Nygma was just like Barry and preferred to do things himself. Really, neither man was very good at working with a partner.

"Thanks, Ed," Barry said quietly, taking the evidence from him.

He was trying not to be too hard on the guy. Really, he was just trying to be helpful, and Barry didn't want to take out his frustrations on Nygma just because the guy was a bit quirky and annoying.

Ed smiled at him and turned to leave the room. He stopped suddenly when he reached the doorway and turned back around to say something. Barry already knew what he was going to say.

"Oh, Barry, did you—?"

"Seven seconds," Barry said, cutting him off, "The answer is seven seconds, Ed."

Edward grinned at him.

"Nobody's ever solved that one before," he said happily.

A small giggle escaped his lips as he turned to leave the room.

"Hey, Ed," Barry called out.

Edward paused and turned back again to face him.

"If you say my name, I no longer exist," Barry said.

"What?" Edward asked, his eyes going wide.

Joe gave Barry a funny look, but Barry ignored him.

"If you say my name, I no longer exist," Barry repeated.

"A riddle?" Edward said, a small smile forming on his lips, "You're giving _me_ a riddle?"

Barry nodded.

Edward looked at Barry in shocked excitement. No one hardly ever even attempted to solve his riddles, let alone gave him one in return. He continued to look shocked as he left the room, excitedly reciting Barry's riddle over and over under his breath as he tried to figure it out.

Joe raised an eyebrow at Barry once Edward had left the room.

"What?" Barry asked.

Joe shook his head.

"Well, at least he found one person who will humor him," Joe said in amusement.

Barry just rolled his eyes.

"He's not that bad once you get used to him," he said, "Maybe giving him riddles will stop him from giving them to me all the time."

"Or it will just encourage him," Joe pointed out.

"Well, to be honest, I feel kind of bad for the guy," Barry said, "Everyone around here treats him like shit. It's a lot like how they used to treat me. Now, everyone is super nice to me because they think I'm made of glass. Honestly, I don't know which one's worse."

"I'm sorry, Bar," Joe said, "I didn't realize I was babysitting you so much. I don't mean to be overbearing. I just know that we have a lot of cases coming in right now and I'm worried that it might be a bit overwhelming for you to take on this much so soon."

"It's not too much," Barry assured him, "I can handle it just fine."

"Okay," Joe said, although he was still giving Barry a worried look.

He looked down at Barry's desk. Files and evidence bags were stacked a mile high on top of it. As Joe was leaving, he looked back at Barry again. He was looking at the stuff piled on top of his desk with a tense out look on his face, running his fingers through his hair. As much as Barry had tried to assure him he was fine, Joe could tell that he was stressed.

And for Barry right now, stress was not a good thing.

* * *

"Silence!" Ed yelled into the previously silent lab.

Barry jumped violently in his chair behind his desk, startled by Ed's unexpected shout. Barry took a deep breath and placed a hand over his heart, which had doubled in pace within seconds.

"What?" he asked, confused and somewhat irritated.

He was really getting sick of Ed startling him all the time.

"Silence," Edward repeated, grinning as he walked over to Barry's desk, "If you say my name, I no longer exist. The answer is silence."

"Oh, right," Barry said, turning back to the report he had been trying to write, "My riddle. Good job, Ed."

Barry didn't mean to always be so short with the man, but he had had a long day. He was growing more and more frustrated by his inability to write and type. He could do it; he was just extremely slow at it, and it was incredibly frustrating. Edward didn't say anything for a moment or two. He just stood there, watching Barry type. Barry had grown somewhat used to the man's hovering. At least Ed was standing off to his side and not behind him this time. Barry always hated it when Ed lurked behind him.

"You're missing a finger," Edward said suddenly, staring at Barry's hand.

He didn't seem disturbed or even shocked by it. He was simply stating his observation, his voice nonchalant, as if he were discussing the weather.

Barry shifted in his chair, not sure how to respond to that.

"Yeah," he said, trying not to sound too defensive.

He stood up from his chair and moved over to his printer, waiting for his report to print. Edward followed.

"You know, digit amputation really isn't the best form of torture," Ed said matter of factly, "Some of the best forms of torture are the ones that don't leave a lasting mark."

Barry shifted uncomfortably, looking away from the other CSI. He didn't need to be told this. He knew it better than anyone.

"You know in the sixteenth century Henry VIII used to boil people alive? He would boil them in oil, tar, tallow, or molten lead," Edward informed him, "It's true. The Chinese, though. They had the best forms of torture. They would—"

"Nygma!" someone shouted from the doorway.

Both CSI's turned to see Officer Holmes entering the lab.

"That's enough of that," he said angrily as he approached them, "Can't you see you're making him uncomfortable?"

Barry shifted awkwardly where he stood, both grateful and embarrassed by the officer's intervention.

"Oh sorry," Nygma said cheerfully, "I didn't mean to offend anyone."

The smile on Ed's face wasn't necessarily malicious. It was more ignorant than anything else. He was always oblivious to the way some of the things he said made people uncomfortable. He often didn't pick up on social cues very well, a quality that had Barry usually feeling a little annoyed with Nygma but also made him feel somewhat bad for the man. It wasn't entirely his fault, and the guy really was harmless.

"It's okay, Ed," Barry said wearily.

Edward smiled awkwardly at him before walking away, leaving the lab.

"Are you alright, Barry?" Officer Holmes asked him.

Barry nodded.

"I'm fine," he said.

"You know," the officer said, "I have a buddy who was overseas in the military. When he came home, he was a little messed up from everything he saw over there. I know how hard PTSD can be on someone and their family. If you ever need anything, or if you need someone to talk to…"

"Thank you, Dan," Barry said gratefully, feeling strange having this conversation with one of his coworkers whom he had never really known all that well before, "I really am fine, though."

Barry noticed the officer's eyes flit to the scars on his arms for a moment before looking back at his face again. He had noticed quite a few of his coworkers doing this. He knew they couldn't help it, but it never failed to make him feel self-conscious about it.

"What can I do for you, officer?" Barry asked him then, moving past the subject.

Barry never let any of them really get into any serious conversations with him about his personal trauma. He usually just changed the subject the first chance he got. He could barely talk about this stuff with his therapist, let alone his coworkers who didn't really even know the whole story. All they knew was what Singh had told them and the rumors they had heard.

Barry knew what they all said about him. He had overheard them. In the men's room. The breakroom. The hallway. Just about everywhere in the precinct. They were all talking about him. Talking about the scars. The jumpiness. His weight loss. What kinds of torture they suspected were inflicted on him. They didn't have a clue.

He tried hard not to resent them for it. It was only natural that they would talk. Not many people could say they knew someone who had been tortured for nine weeks. It only made sense that they would be curious for details and speculate about it. Barry just wished he didn't have to overhear it all the time. Most of it was just comments here and there that he overheard, but then there came one occasion where it was an entire conversation.

At one point, midway through his second week, Barry was just about to walk into the break room to grab a cup of coffee when he stopped outside the door, having caught a portion of what the officers in the room were talking about.

"…I mean, some of them look like they're _burns_ ," someone was saying, his voice laced with disgust.

Well, at least, that's what it sounded like to Barry. He recognized it as the voice of Detective Henderson.

"I know," Officer Liddell's voice responded, "I cringe every time I see that one on his left wrist. Or that long one on his throat. You know which one I mean. It looks like a knife wound of some kind, and it starts just under his jaw and goes down God knows how far."

Barry reached for his throat and felt the thin bump of the scar there. He had gotten it when they were observing the blood vessel layout of his neck. The scientists had had some stupid theory that his cervical blood vessels were larger in order to accommodate for his fast heart rate. So naturally, they decided to just cut his whole fucking neck open to find out. Barry hated that scar. Then again, he hated _all_ of his scars.

"It makes me shudder to think what other ones he has," he heard Officer Liddell continue, "I heard a rumor that there were surgical scars, too."

"Surgical scars?" Henderson said, "How would anyone know _that_?"

"I don't know," Officer Liddell answered, "It was just a rumor I heard. Apparently, West took a bunch of photos of the damage that was done, for evidence. Someone said they took a peek at the case file and saw the photos that they had in there. They said they were extremely gruesome. Broken bones, missing finger nails. Sick stuff. The kid was basically a walking skeleton. If we think he looks sickly skinny now, I don't even want to know what those photos of him look like."

Barry clenched his hands into fists. He didn't know Joe had taken photos. He must have done it shortly after he had been rescued, maybe one time when he was sleeping or too out of it to notice. Barry didn't know why Joe would have taken photos for evidence or why he would have given them to Singh, but the idea of photos of his naked, mutilated body being spread around at his workplace bothered him.

It bothered him a lot.

"I heard there were a lot of sick things they did to that kid," Detective Henderson said, "I mean, have you seen his fingers? How many times do you think they broke them to make them that way? They're all deformed and messed up now. I don't know how he manages to do anything with hands like that."

Barry felt sick to his stomach as he looked down at his twisted hands, his eyes filling with tears.

"If you ask me, the most disturbing thing is that brand," Officer Liddell said seriously, "0227. What the hell does that even mean?"

"I don't know," the detective said, "All I know is that Allen is bound to have some serious issues now. Being around that kid makes me a bit uncomfortable to be honest."

"James!"

"I know that's a horrible thing to say," Henderson said, "But come on, you have to admit. It's a little hard to be around him. I don't know if I should act normal around him or if I have to tip toe around him or what. I was in the elevator alone with him the other day, and I had no clue what to say to him, so I didn't say anything. I mean, what are you supposed to say to someone who's been tortured and brought to the brink of insanity?"

"We don't know anything about Barry's sanity," Officer Liddell said reasonably, "The kid must be pretty damn strong to have made it through all of that and still be here working after it. I know if it were me, I would probably never come back to work."

"True," the detective said, "Honestly, I don't even know what he's doing here. I mean, I'm glad to have Allen back and all—he's an excellent CSI—but he should probably still be at home recovering. This isn't the kind of job that someone so… _delicate_ should be doing."

"I heard they're giving him all the easy cases," Officer Liddell told him, "Well, maybe not _easy_. Just the less gory ones. They don't want to set him off, so they've been giving him all robberies and arson cases. Little things. No homicides, no sexual assaults, nothing that he might find upsetting or triggering."

"That's a shame," Henderson said, "Allen was a damn good homicide specialist. All that genius and talent gone to waste now because of this. It's too bad. We're probably going to be stuck with Nygma for all those cases now."

"Yeah, and Nygma definitely doesn't have a problem with gore," Liddell said in disgust, "The guy takes a little too much joy and interest in his work if you ask me."

"Why didn't he just stay in Gotham?" Detective Henderson asked, "From what I've heard, they have more than enough homicide cases there for Ed to work with."

"I don't know, something about his girlfriend leaving him and it being too hard for him to stay there," Liddell answered vaguely, "They said he started acting funny after she ran off with some other dude, and they decided to transfer him here, thinking that might be better for him. If you ask me, the guy's lost his marbles. I caught him talking to himself in his office just the other day."

"Jeez," Henderson said, "I guess we're stuck with _two_ crazy CSIs now."

"Yeah, well at least Barry has a good reason for it," Liddell pointed out, "He's been through a serious trauma. Ed is just a weirdo."

"Is that a good idea?" the detective asked, "Pairing the two of them together? Don't you think being around someone like Ed is going to make Allen _worse_?"

"Who knows? Maybe dealing with someone else's craziness will distract him from his own," Officer Liddell reasoned, "Maybe working will be good for him, help him get out of his own head. Joe asked me to keep an eye on him, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to be looking for. He seems alright. Just really jumpy and on edge, and he doesn't talk as much as he used to."

"Who knew we'd actually come to miss Allen's annoying science rants?" Henderson said with a small, humorless laugh, "It's just not right how quiet he is now. I actually miss the talkative, enthusiastic nerd he was before. Now he's so serious. It's kind of sad if you think about it."

"Yeah, the whole thing is sad," Liddell agreed, "Barry was always such a sweet kid. I never expected something like this to happen to him. It's like the Barry we knew before is just _gone_."

Barry felt a tear slide down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away and took a deep breath as he leaned against the wall outside the door to the breakroom. This was exactly what he didn't want. He didn't want people looking at him and seeing this sad, pathetic empty shell of a person. He wanted them to see Barry Allen. He wanted to _be_ Barry Allen. Not whoever this sad, serious, _delicate_ person was that everyone now saw him to be.

He looked down at his arms, at his disgusting scars and mutilated hands. Before, they had made him feel like a weak and pathetic victim, but now, they also made him feel like a freak, like a monster. No matter what Joe and Iris, and Cisco and Caitlin told him, Barry knew how people really felt around him. They were afraid of him. He made them uncomfortable. They were disgusted by him.

They pitied him.

Barry couldn't stop his lip from trembling as he leaned against the wall in the hallway. He couldn't stop the sob that escaped his throat or the tears that fell from his eyes. In an instant, he flashed back up to the solitude of his lab, coffee completely forgotten.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: "The dwarves and Snow White sit down for a bite. How fast can you guess what she'll serve her guests next?"—** _**La Vita è Bella**_


	18. A Familiar Voice

**A Familiar Voice**

* * *

Barry found the case file.

He waited for Singh to go on his lunch break with his husband, Rob, before flashing into his office, unnoticed, pulling the blinds once he was in there. He wasted no time digging through Singh's confidential files until he found one labeled "Allen Case." The file said confidential on it, but apparently that hadn't stopped a few of his coworkers from looking through it. Barry stared down at the folder in his hands, afraid to open it.

Barry had already suspected that the others were trying to hunt down Eiling, or were at least keeping tabs on him. He was shocked that Joe would have included Singh in on it, though. It told Barry all he needed to know about their intentions. They were going to take Eiling down using the law. He supposed that wasn't really so surprising. What else were they supposed to do? Taking a deep breath, Barry opened the file.

He wanted to be sick the second his eyes fell on the evidence photos. Pictures of him and his naked, violated body filled the file. There were photos of his open surgical wounds, his missing fingernails, his beaten, traumatized face. Barry was distracted for a moment by the goriness of it all and knowing the fact that Singh and God knows who else had seen them. That's why it took him a moment to realize that the photos hadn't been taken in STAR Labs like he had assumed. No, they had been taken in a different lab, in _the_ lab.

And that left Barry to ponder how Joe had gotten them. Had they gone back to the facility after it fell apart? He had been led to believe the scientists had taken all their work, all of the evidence, with them, leaving nothing behind. He knew Caitlin had some files that she had taken from the facility when they rescued him, but he hadn't realized there had been photos included in that, too. They must have gotten the photos that same night. It was the only explanation.

Before Barry could look through the rest of the file, however, the door to Singh's office opened. Barry was just about to flash from the room before he could be seen when he realized that it was just Joe, so he stayed put.

"Hey, captain," Joe said as he entered the room, "I was wondering if you—"

Joe froze when he saw Barry standing there, file in hand.

"Barry," Joe said in surprise, "What are you doing in here? Where's Singh?"

"On his lunch break," Barry answered flatly.

Joe then took a closer look at the file in Barry's hand. He paled instantly.

"Barry…" he said, his eyes wide.

"I know you mean well," Barry said quietly, "But you could have at least told me about this."

He dropped the open file down onto Singh's desk, the photos sliding out and coming into Joe's line of sight. Joe looked at them painfully for a moment before speaking.

"We were going to," he said, "We just didn't want to upset you."

"It's a bit late for that," Barry said bitterly.

"Bar," Joe said in a strained voice, "We're just trying to get justice for you."

"And I get that," Barry said, "But don't you think it would only have been fair for you to bring me in on it?"

"We didn't think it'd be good for you," Joe said quietly, "Or your recovery."

Barry sighed and picked up the file again, his stomach churning as he took one last look at the photos before closing it. He returned it carefully to the drawer, Joe watching him nervously the entire time.

"Barry…" he said.

"I'm not mad," Barry said quietly, "You're just trying to help. I…I get that. You guys can do whatever you want to Eiling. I don't want any part of it."

Joe raised his eyebrows then.

"You don't?" he asked in surprise.

Barry shook his head.

"I wish you had told me about it," he said, "But I don't want to be a part of it."

"So you won't testify?" Joe asked sadly, "If we brought Eiling to court, you wouldn't be willing to…?"

"It looks to me like you have enough evidence against him without me having to testify," Barry said bitterly.

Joe cringed at that.

"Barry," Joe said seriously, "Ultimately, it's up to you to press charges against him. You're the victim here."

"I'm not a victim," Barry said angrily, "I'm not weak, Joe."

"Of course you're not, Bar," Joe said sadly, "That's not what I meant. You're one of the strongest people I know."

Barry sighed then.

"I'll press whatever charges you want me to," Barry said flatly, "But I won't testify. You guys can do whatever you want, but I want to be left out of it."

"I thought you wanted justice," Joe said quietly.

"I do," Barry said earnestly, "Just not…not like this."

"What does _that_ mean, Barry?" Joe asked nervously.

"Nothing," Barry muttered, "I don't know what I want."

Barry sighed then.

"I just need some time to process this, Joe," he said quietly before walking past Joe to exit the small office.

Joe wanted to stop him, to talk to him more about this, but he decided against it. He would give Barry time to work through it on his own before talking to him about it again. For some reason, he had a really uneasy feeling about all of it. He didn't like the look in Barry's eyes.

* * *

"You seem restless, Barry," Dr. Jenson observed.

Barry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I just feel like I need to _do_ something," he said seriously, "I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of hearing everyone say 'It'll get better with time.' I feel like I need to _do_ something to get better, not just sit and wait for me to get over it."

"People don't just 'get over it' when they've been through something like you have, Barry," Dr. Jenson told him, "It does get better with time, but you're right; it does require you to take action to get better, not just wait for things to get better."

Barry nodded his agreement.

"I just don't know what that action _is_ ," Barry said bitterly.

"You're already doing it," Dr. Jenson said, "You're already taking action, Barry. You're working again, you're communicating with your family, you're working hard with your physical recovery, and you're talking to me. You've been taking a lot of action."

Barry sighed.

"That can't be it," he said, "That isn't enough. There has to be more. There has to be something else I can do."

"What do _you_ think you need to do, Barry?" Dr. Jenson asked him.

Barry seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering.

"I need to find some closure," he said quietly, "I need to find some…peace. To make things right."

"And what do you need to do to make things right?" the doctor asked him curiously.

"I don't know," Barry said quietly, but Dr. Jenson could tell Barry had something on his mind; he just didn't want to say it, "All I know is that going through the motions, going to work, spending time with family, physical therapy, all of that is not enough. It's never going to be enough. I just feel so…"

Barry sighed heavily.

"Dissatisfied," he said, "I feel dissatisfied."

"Why?" Dr. Jenson pressed.

He already had an idea, but he needed Barry to say it himself.

"I don't know," Barry said dismissively, looking away from him.

"Yes, you do," Dr. Jenson challenged, "You know why you feel that way, Barry. You just need to say it."

Barry looked at him then, making eye contact with the doctor. It was clear they were both thinking the same thing. Barry just needed to say it out loud.

"The scientists," Barry said quietly.

Dr. Jenson nodded seriously.

"You never really got justice for what happened to you," the doctor summarized, "That's what has you feeling this way."

Barry nodded, his eyes darkening, but he didn't say anything.

"The people who held you captive _will_ see justice, Barry," Dr. Jenson said earnestly.

"I know they will," Barry gritted, his eyes darkening.

The doctor raised his eyebrows.

"Is this the action you're talking about?" he asked quietly, "Are you planning to do something to get justice?"

Barry looked away from him again.

"Barry?" the doctor asked, when Barry didn't say anything.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked quietly.

"The truth," Dr. Jenson pressed, "What do you want to do, Barry?"

"I can't tell you," Barry said quietly.

"Barry, I'm your doctor," he said in a reassuring voice, "You can tell me these things."

"I can't, though," Barry insisted, "If I told you…if I told you the things I wanted to do...you would pull me out of work. You would make me go through more therapy and psych evals."

The doctor sighed.

"Barry, you understand that the point of therapy is to help you, right?" he said, "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth. Is that what you've been doing, Barry? Have you just been telling me what you think I want to hear?"

"No," Barry said quickly, "No, I've actually been very honest with you. It's just…this stuff, the stuff with the scientists, I can't talk about that, even with you."

"Why?"

"Because you'll think I'm crazy," Barry said with a slight edge to his voice.

Dr. Jenson sighed and surveyed Barry for a moment before speaking.

"I don't think you're crazy," he assured Barry, "I actually am extremely impressed with your coping skills, Barry. I've had patients who have been through traumas that were not anywhere _near_ as severe as yours that have handled it far worse than you have. What you're feeling is normal, Barry. It's only natural that you should want justice for everything that's happened to you. I can't hold that against you. No one can. I won't even be shocked or surprised if you've fantasized about it. Those are all normal reactions for someone who has been wronged in the ways that you have."

Barry didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell the doctor that he had not only fantasized about it. He had _planned_ it. He had spent countless hours planning it. It wasn't justice he was craving. It was revenge.

"You don't understand," Barry said quietly, "I want…I want them to suffer."

"You want them to suffer in the same way they made you suffer," Dr. Jenson said calmly, "That's a normal reaction, Barry. It's completely understandable that you should feel that way."

"But, it's not just a feeling," Barry said in a strained voice, "I…I don't know if I'll ever move on if they just get away with it. I can't find peace with that."

"The police are working on it," Dr. Jenson assured him, "They're doing everything they can to get justice for you."

Barry sighed.

"That's not…that's not what I want," Barry said, "I don't want to see them arrested. I want…"

"You want to kill them?" Dr. Jenson asked gently.

Barry paled and looked at the doctor with wide eyes.

"I would understand if you felt that way, Barry," the doctor said reassuringly, "Is that how you feel? Do you feel like you want to kill them?"

Barry looked down at his hands in his lap.

"No," he said, taking the doctor somewhat by surprise, "I don't want them to die."

"You don't?" Dr. Jenson asked.

Barry shook his head, his expression darkening.

"Death is too good for them," he said, "They deserve worse."

He looked at the doctor then, measuring his reaction. Dr. Jenson just nodded thoughtfully, processing Barry's response without letting his reaction show on his facial expressions.

"Barry, I have to ask you—and I need you to be completely honest with me," he said seriously, "Are you planning anything?"

"No," Barry replied immediately, maybe a little too quickly, "I'm not planning to do anything. These are all just feelings. I don't plan to act on them."

Dr. Jenson surveyed Barry thoughtfully for a moment or two before speaking.

"Okay," he said quietly.

"Are you pulling me out of work now?" Barry asked glumly.

"No," Dr. Jenson told him, surprising him, "No, I won't do that. I don't think you're unstable, Barry. These thoughts and feelings you've been experiencing are all normal reactions to the abuse that's been inflicted on you. It doesn't make you crazy."

Barry gave him a small, sad smile.

"Thank you," he said.

"I'm not going to clear you to work full time just yet," Dr. Jenson said, "I think we'll keep you working three days a week for now while we continue our therapy sessions. I don't feel comfortable with you working full time yet. You've been making tremendous progress, though, Barry. It may not seem like that sometimes, but you _have_."

"Thanks, Dr. Jenson," Barry said, still not looking at the doctor, a weight of guilt settling in his stomach.

His doctor didn't know the half of it.

* * *

"Feeling glum?" Ed asked when he walked into Barry's lab to find him staring at his coffee mug.

Barry snapped out of it and looked absently over at the other man.

"Just a rough week," he said flatly before looking away again.

Ed observed him for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face.

"Hey, Barry, what's green and then red?"

"What?" Barry asked, not really in a mood for another one of Nygma's riddles.

Surprisingly though, Ed didn't wait for an answer. Instead he said the answer right away.

"Frogs in a blender," he laughed.

It was only then that Barry realized Ed wasn't giving him a riddle. He was telling a joke. He was trying to cheer him up, in his own Nygma sort of way.

Barry permitted a small half smile that quickly faded from his face.

"Okay, Mr. Allen, we all know by now that I'm not the greatest at reading people," Ed said awkwardly, "But even I can tell that you're feeling down. Do you want to talk about it? I'm not the best person to talk to, admittedly, but maybe it would help you to…"

"I don't really want to talk," Barry said, "Thank you, Ed. Really. But I don't really want to think about it right now. I just want to work."

"You want a distraction?" Ed asked excitedly, "I can help you with that. We just had an interesting homicide case come in. If you want you could help me to—oh. Never mind. You know what? I think I have an interesting credit card fraud case that came in yesterday. That should be really—"

"No," Barry said.

"Oh," Ed said, suddenly flustered, "Well, how about a grand theft auto case involving—?"

"No," Barry said again, "I want to help with the homicide case."

Edward paled slightly.

"It's not that great, Barry," he said quickly, "My definition of interesting is different than other people's. Really, I'm not supposed to let you…You should just forget I mentioned it. Your foster dad…I mean the captain…I think you would like the stolen vehicle case better."

"I don't care about what Joe or Singh told you. I can handle a homicide case," Barry said determinedly, "Where's the file?"

Ed shrugged.

"Oakey Dokey," he said with a smile, "If that's what you want."

He dug through the stack of files he had brought in with him.

"The paper evidence is fairly limited," Edward told him, handing him the file, "We have the body in the morgue right now. The medical examiner is taking his sweet time getting to it, though. I doubt he's even looked at the body yet. I was just going to go down there to look at it myself."

"Great," Barry said, standing up from his desk, "I'll come with you."

Edward shrugged.

"Alright then," he said nonchalantly, "Let's go."

Barry followed Ed out of the lab and into the elevator. His stomach fluttered with nerves as he pressed the B button to take him down to the morgue, glad that they were taking the elevator down instead of the stairs where Joe or someone else was sure to see him.

They would surely stop him.

Barry's stomach was instantly in knots when they entered the morgue and the smell of bleach and formaldehyde met his nostrils. He could handle this, though. He had been working with his triggers with Dr. Jenson, who had been working with Barry to remain calm with the smell of bleach and other triggering scents. He just had to remember what he had learned in therapy. It was all a part of desensitization therapy, and going to the morgue would be just another therapeutic exposure for him. He could handle this.

They walked into the medical examination room of the morgue, Barry's hands clenching into fists as the examination table came into sight. The body was covered with a white sheet, laying on the cold, hard metal table.

 _It's just a body_ , Barry thought to himself, _You've worked with them before. You'll be fine._

He wasn't fine, though.

As soon Edward pulled the sheet from the man's body down to his waist, Barry's stomach started doing summersaults. It was too similar, too close to how he had been when he was laying on a table like this, strapped down as the scientists did as they wanted to him. Barry knew he probably wasn't ready for this, but he decided not to let that stop him. He could handle it. He just had to remain detached from the situation.

 _Focus on the science_ , he thought to himself.

"What's the cause of death?" Barry asked quietly, his mouth dry.

"Disembowelment," Ed said, eagerly walking around to stand on the other side of the table for a better look at the body's abdominal wound.

Barry had to fight the urge to look away from the gory sight. He could feel all the blood draining from his face. Was this how _he_ had looked? Laying on that table with all the scientists looking down on him, performing surgery on him, his organs on full display for the world to see.

No.

He had looked worse. He had been far more exposed and vulnerable. He didn't have a sheet covering him. There were plenty of times when he didn't even have _skin_ covering him in some places. And he had been strapped down. He had been still _alive_.

"Where was the body found?" he asked in a strained voice, trying to focus more on the case than anything else.

"Near the docks," Ed answered, "But that wasn't where he was killed. He was dumped there."

"How do you know?" Barry asked, looking up at Ed rather than at the body.

He could feel himself growing dizzy from the sight.

"Going by overall coagulation," Ed said, "I'd say the time of death was around midnight last night, but he had only been on the dock for a couple hours. Rats had only just started on his ears."

Ed smiled as he pointed at the victim's ears, where little nibble marks were clearly visible.

"Sneaky little buggers," Ed added with an amused smile.

And that statement alone caused Barry's stomach to churn even more. Ed's callous attitude, the ease with which he worked with the body, it reminded Barry strongly of how the scientists had acted, how blasé they had been about the fact that there was a real live person on the table in front of them.

Barry felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn't handle this. He felt like he was suddenly suffocating inside the small examination lab, his throat feeling tight as it closed up on him.

"Are you alright?" Ed suddenly asked him, noticing how green Barry had gotten.

Barry shook his head.

"I have to get out of here," he choked, placing a hand over his mouth, "I can't do this."

He didn't even wait for Ed to respond. He left the lab as quickly as possible, making his way for the stairs, knowing the elevator wouldn't get him out of there fast enough. The smell of bleach and formaldehyde lingered in his nostrils even after he had reached the ground floor. Barry wanted to quickly head for the stairs to his lab, but he didn't think he'd be able to make it in time to be sick. Instead, he ducked into the ground-floor bathroom unnoticed.

At least, he thought it was unnoticed. Unfortunately, there was already another person in there, washing his hands at the sink.

"You alright, Allen?" Officer Liddell asked him as soon as he caught a glimpse of Barry's reflection in the mirror in front of him.

Barry didn't answer him. Instead, he quickly ducked into one of the bathroom stalls and immediately emptied his stomach into the toilet, taking deep breaths once he was done.

"Are you okay?" Officer Liddell asked again, with more concern this time, "Are you just sick, or…?"

"I'm fine," Barry gasped, opening the stall door and making his way over to the sink.

His reflection still looked extremely pale, though, and his hands were shaking.

"I just need some water."

And with that, Barry turned on the faucet and ducked his head under it, drinking frantically, not even caring that Officer Liddell was giving him strange looks. The older officer looked like he didn't know what to do. Barry just kept drinking, and it looked like he was never going to stop.

"Barry…" he said quietly after a moment, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I think that's enough."

Barry flinched and then roughly pushed the hand off him.

"I'm good," he said harshly, "Just go back to work. I'm fine."

He went back to drinking desperately from the faucet then. Officer Liddell didn't leave, though. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"Barry, I don't think you're fine," he said gently, but Barry didn't respond to him.

He just kept drinking frantically, as if he was dying from thirst. Suddenly, another person walked into the bathroom.

It was the captain.

"What's going on?" he asked as soon as he took in the scene in front of him.

"I don't know," Officer Liddell said helplessly, "Something's not right."

"I'm fine," Barry groaned, not pulling his head up from the sink, "I'm fine. I just need water."

Singh observed the situation for only a moment or two before deciding what to do.

"Go get Joe," he told the officer quietly.

Liddell nodded and left the bathroom quickly.

"Barry," Singh said, placing his hands on Barry's shoulders, noticing how violently the other man flinched at his touch.

He kept his hands there, though, as he attempted to pull Barry away from the sink.

"No!" Barry yelled at him, lunging back for the sink again.

His eyes were red and bloodshot, and it was only a few minutes later that Barry started to gag into the sink, yet he still kept drinking the water.

Singh didn't know what to do. Barry started to sob as he drank, wishing desperately that they would all just leave him alone. He didn't want spectators for this. He was used to doing in the privacy of his own bathroom, alone with the door locked. The gagging grew worse, and Singh was relieved when Barry finally pulled away from the sink, but the relief vanished quickly when Barry rushed over to the toilet again to be sick.

It was then that Joe rushed in, looking worried. Singh looked at him desperately.

"We didn't know what to do," he said quietly.

Joe nodded.

"I've got this," he said, moving towards the stall where Barry was still throwing up.

He had left the stall door open this time, and Joe stood just outside the stall, not wanting to crowd Barry in the small space.

"Barry, what happened?" Joe asked worriedly once Barry's vomiting had subsided.

Barry pulled away from the toilet and sat on the floor, his back leaning against the side of the stall.

"I'm sorry," he cried, tears streaming down his face, "Joe, I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Bar," Joe said hurriedly, "I know you can't help it. Just tell me what happened. What triggered it?"

Barry sobbed and shook his head.

"I was so stupid, Joe," he cried, "I was so stupid. I went down to the morgue to work on a case with Ed. I thought I could handle it but…"

Joe paled slightly and exchanged a look with Singh.

"It's alright, Bar," he said quickly, "You're going to be okay, alright? You're safe here."

"I know," Barry said, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead against them, "I know I'm safe. I…I just want to go home. Take me home, Joe."

"Okay," Joe said instantly as Singh nodded silently at him, "Okay, Bar. We're going home. Alright?"

Barry nodded and looked up.

"I'm so sorry," he said to both of them.

"It's okay," the captain said immediately, "It's alright, Barry. Just go home and get some rest."

Barry nodded gratefully and then slowly got up from the floor. Joe put a hand out to help him up, but Barry shook his head.

"Don't touch me," he said quietly as he pulled himself up, "Not right now."

Joe pulled his hand back at that and moved far back to allow Barry out of the stall.

Barry couldn't even look at either of them as he exited the bathroom. He didn't want to see the concerned looks they were both giving him. He didn't want them to see his shame and embarrassment. When he left the bathroom, it was to find several of his coworkers standing outside the door, a mixture of curiosity and concern occupying their faces. He didn't make eye contact with any of them as he walked past them, Joe walking alongside him. He hardly even heard Singh shouting at them to get back to work. All he could think about was getting out of there as fast as possible, restraining himself from using his superspeed to leave the precinct.

The car ride home passed in a blur. Joe tried to reassure Barry that it was okay, that he didn't have to feel ashamed or embarrassed, but Barry didn't respond. He just stared out the window, his eyes wet.

Iris stayed home with him for the few days following the incident at the precinct. Barry didn't go back to work the following Friday. He didn't feel ready to face his coworkers so soon. He was too embarrassed. He had tried. He had tried to take on a homicide case so he could prove to them that he wasn't as weak as they thought, but instead, he accomplished the opposite. He knew they wouldn't judge him for it. Worse. They would _pity_ him. Barry was so tired of being pitied at this point.

Even staying home with Iris was miserable for him. She seemed to be keeping a close eye on him, and it drove him crazy. It felt like he had taken a huge step back in his recovery. They were all watching him again, looking for cracks, just when things had been starting to go back to normal again.

Barry stayed in his room a lot for those few days. He didn't want to face them, and during the day, Iris checked on him frequently, but she gave him his space for the most part. She worked from home as she stayed there with Barry, sitting in the dining room typing her articles as Barry stayed upstairs in his room.

On Friday, she was working on her computer when suddenly she got an alert that her laptop's battery was running low.

"Dammit," she muttered to herself.

She had left her power cord at work.

She had an article due at noon, and if she didn't submit it in time, her editor was going to give her an earful about it. Thankfully, though, she suddenly had an idea. Iris reached into her bag and pulled out a jump drive, quickly uploading her article onto it before her computer died.

Barry's laptop sat on the couch. She decided not to go upstairs and bother him by asking for permission. He wouldn't mind if she used it anyways. She had used it before in similar situations, and Barry never had a problem with it in the past, as long as she didn't go through his confidential work files, as tempting as that was. She would never breach Barry's work confidentiality for a story.

She brought the computer over to the dining room table and opened it. She smiled sadly at his screen saver, a photo of him and her with her dad, smiling happily as a family. She missed those days, back when Barry was still Barry, before everything that had happened to him, before he had become the Flash, any of it.

Iris plugged the jump drive into the USB port of his computer. She opened up his computer files, looking for the D drive for her article. Her eyes slid right over Barry's work stuff, not even wanting to tempt herself with all the juicy stories she could write with all that information. And then something else caught her eye. It was a different file, separate from Barry's work files. It was labeled "Mondego."

Her curiosity getting the best of her, Iris clicked on the file.

"Oh, my God," she said out loud when the file opened and she saw what was in it.

* * *

Barry felt guilty for holing himself up in his room for the last two days. After everything that happened at work that Wednesday, he felt too ashamed to face everyone, but really, that was no reason to give them all the cold shoulder. He couldn't keep resenting _them_ every time _he_ made a mistake. It was unfair to them, when they were just trying to help him. He knew he would have to just suck it up and try to move on, start again. He could prove to them that he was alright. He just needed to take it slowly. Baby steps. Don't rush it this time.

He didn't feel ready to go to work, but he could at the very least hang out with Iris. Maybe they could even go out to Jitters or something, get out of the house for a while. Barry didn't necessarily love the idea, but he knew it would probably be good for him.

"Hey, Iris," he said bounding down the stairs and making his way into the dining room where she sat, "I was thinking you and I could maybe go to Jitters or something. Get out of the house for a—"

He froze in his tracks when he saw her, sitting there on his computer. She turned to look at him, a distraught look on her face.

"What are you doing?" he asked her immediately.

She answered him with a question.

"Barry, what is this?" she asked, her voice cracking in anguish, and Barry knew instantly.

She had seen the file.

"It's my computer," he said angrily, walking over to where she sat, moving to close the laptop.

She put out a hand to stop him and slid the computer away from his reach.

"No," she said harshly, keeping the file up on the screen, "What is this, Barry?"

Barry's jaw clenched, and his hands formed into fists.

"I can't let it go, Iris," he said in a strained voice, "I can't. What they did to me…"

"It's not healthy to obsess like this," Iris said, looking at the file he had on all of the scientists, "What good does it do to keep tabs on these people anyways?"

He looked away from her, not saying anything. It was his lack of response that had her suddenly very worried. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him.

"Barry," she said slowly, her eyes growing wider, "What did you intend to do with this information? What are you planning, Barry?"

"I don't know yet," he said in a strangled voice.

"Barry…"

"All I know is that I can't let it go," he said desperately, "I can't…I can't let them get away with it. They shouldn't be able to just walk away. I'm so sick about it, Iris. I can't sleep at night, thinking of them walking around out there."

"Barry, what happened to you was…horrible, but—"

"It didn't _'happen'_ to me," Barry corrected angrily, "It was _done_ to me! By these people!"

He gestured angrily at the screen. He moved closer to the computer then and pulled up a file.

"You see this man?" Barry said as he pulled up a photo of one of the scientists, "He's the one who did _this_ to me."

He held up his hand with the missing finger, his whole hand shaking in anger.

"And this man here," he said, pulling up another file, "It was his idea to brand me, but this woman here, she's the one who actually held the hot metal to my skin."

Iris felt tears forming in her eyes as she watched Barry's anger unravel. He didn't stop there, though. He pulled up another photo.

"And this man," he said darkly, glaring at the image, "I'll never forget the sick laugh that escaped his lips when they were dropping chemicals into my eyes."

"Barry…" Iris said, closing her eyes, unable to bear hearing any more.

"Oh, and this man here, Dr. Forester," Barry continued, "If he was in the lab, I could always count on it that I would be gagged the entire time. Guess he didn't have any tolerance for my screams. This woman here, she was always a bit careless and sloppy with a scalpel. She always cut just a _little_ too deep."

"Barry…please," Iris said in anguish

"Dr. Cormier," he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "He was the respiratory expert. He synthesized all the toxins they forced me to inhale."

Barry continued to bring up more images. Another man's face occupied the screen.

"This pervert here, I'm sure you don't even want to hear the details of what _he_ did to me. He violated me in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine. Oh, but his buddy here, he was much worse. He had a talent for finding out all the different ways that fingers could be broken. It's his face that pops into my mind every time I try to pick up a pencil."

"Barry, I get it," Iris said, "You don't have to—"

"And _her_ ," Barry said darkly, Dr. Holland's face now displayed on the computer screen, "She…"

But now it had become to be too much for Barry. He didn't seem to be able to unleash any more of his anger, and his shoulders suddenly hunched as the fury left him. His voice suddenly became quiet and sullen.

"She messed with my head in ways that don't even compare to what the others did to me," he said quietly.

"Barry," Iris said, tears now flowing down her face, "I know you're angry, and you have every right to be, but this isn't healthy."

"I don't care," Barry said flatly, "They're going to face the consequences for what they did."

"Barry," Iris said brokenly, her heart tearing in two to hear him talking this way, "Please…"

"I'll be at STAR Labs," he said quietly.

Before she could even move to stop him, Barry was gone, having flashed from the room.

* * *

Barry wiped the tears from his face as he ran, ran from everything. She knew now, and soon they would all know. They would know just how messed up he really was. This whole time they thought he was recovering, but Barry knew now. He would never recover. His hatred and his obsession with vengeance would only fester and grow. They didn't understand. They would never understand.

Barry didn't know why he was going to STAR Labs. Perhaps he thought Cisco and Caitlin would understand. Maybe if he just came clean to them and explained it to them, they would take his side. As unhealthy as his vendetta may be, maybe they would support him in it. Maybe they would help him.

He stopped in the hallway just outside of the cortex, mostly because he didn't have any idea what he would say to them and needed a moment to catch his breath, a moment to reign in his anger and find the best way to explain it to them before Iris did. That was when he heard the voice drifting out to him from the cortex.

A woman's voice met his ears. Not Caitlin's. No, a different voice. A _familiar_ voice.

A voice in the form of a Russian accent.


	19. The Phone Call

**The Phone Call**

* * *

"…wanted to see the effects it would have on his brain. He had a few seizures initially, but as far as we can tell, the drugs didn't cause any permanent damage."

Barry hardly heard Caitlin's reply to the other doctor. All he could focus on was her tone. There was no outrage, no shock or horror upon hearing the other doctor discuss the things they had done to him. She replied calmly, as if they were having an everyday conversation. It was then that Barry realized that this was clearly not the first time they had talked. This _was_ an everyday thing.

Before Barry even knew what he was doing, he found himself entering the cortex. He hardly even noticed Cisco and Caitlin freeze in shock at the sight of him. He only had eyes for Dr. Holland, standing there in front of him. It wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't another nightmare. She was really there. The woman who had cut into him, who had strapped him down, forced drugs into his body and violated him in every way. Here she was, standing in front of him, in the flesh.

Barry thought he heard someone say something, but he didn't hear it. There was a loud roaring in his ears, and his vision was tunneling. He blacked out. No, he didn't lose consciousness. He simply didn't remember deciding to cross the room. One minute he was standing in the doorway of the cortex, and the next he found himself across the room, his hands wrapped around the woman's throat, slamming her hard against the wall.

"Barry!" he heard Cisco and Caitlin cry, but Barry ignored them.

He ignored their hands on him, trying to pull him off the doctor. It was as if they weren't even in the room. It was just him and Holland. Barry looked into her eyes with more hatred than he ever thought himself capable of as he attempted to choke the life out of her.

"Barry, stop!" Cisco shouted, pulling at Barry's arm.

Barry released Dr. Holland's throat only for a moment to strike Cisco across the face. He barely even heard Cisco's cry of pain and didn't look at him as he fell to the floor. His hand quickly returned to Dr. Holland's neck. Her eyes bulged in fear as she gasped for air.

"B-a-rr-y," she gasped, clutching weakly at his hands on her throat.

Barry's grip tightened.

"Don't say my name," he growled, tears flowing down his face, "You don't get to say my name."

Barry stared into her eyes, wanting to watch the life drain out of them, but then he suddenly remembered what he had said to Dr. Jensen.

 _Death was too good for them._

With a gasp, Barry pulled away from the doctor, stepping back and gasping for breath. She slid down the wall to the floor, only half conscious as she clutched at her throat and gasped for air.

"I'm…so…sorry," she gasped between breaths.

Barry glared down at her, barely acknowledging that Caitlin was a few feet away from him, helping Cisco off the floor.

"You're not sorry," Barry spat at her, "You'd have to have a heart to feel sorry. I won't believe another one of your lies ever again."

He turned to Cisco and Caitlin then, both of whom had their hands out cautiously in front of them, looking at Barry with pained expressions on both of their faces.

"Barry," Caitlin said quietly.

Barry had a million things he wanted to say to them in that moment, but he found himself unable to say anything. He just looked at them, a look of betrayal occupying his face.

"Barry, we didn't betray you," Cisco said, as if reading Barry's mind, "We were working with her to help you. She's helping us take down Eiling."

"And you trust her?" Barry asked quietly, "After everything she did to me, you really trust her?"

Caitlin opened her mouth to say something, but Barry didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear any of it. Just like he had with Iris, Barry took off in a flash, disappearing before they could say anything else.

Barry didn't know where to go. Everything was laid out on the table now. Iris would have no doubt called Joe and his dad by now to tell them what she had discovered. She had no doubt tried to call STAR Labs, too, but they would have been too distracted by Barry's abrupt arrival to answer. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Barry wondered if the others were in on it, if it wasn't just Cisco and Caitlin that were working with Dr. Holland. They all were in on it. They had to be.

Barry felt like he was going to be sick.

* * *

"Oh, my God," Joe said quietly when he looked at the files on Barry's computer.

He had raced home as soon as Iris had called him.

"Where is Barry now?" he asked.

"He said he was going to STAR Labs," Iris answered tearfully, "I've tried calling Cisco and Caitlin, but neither of them answered. Barry won't pick up his phone either."

"I'm going to head over there," Joe said immediately, grabbing his keys.

He was stopped from leaving, though, by Henry's arrival. He burst through the front door, looking around the room.

"What happened?" he asked frantically, "What's going on?"

Iris hadn't said much over the phone, only that something big had come up with Barry and that they all needed to come to the house right away.

"I found this," Iris said, tilting the computer so that it was facing Henry.

Henry moved closer to the computer to look at it, going pale as soon as he realized what it was.

Joe didn't go over by them, though. He was distracted when his phone started to ring. He answered it immediately.

"Joe!" Caitlin said frantically as soon as he answered, "Barry was just here! He's extremely upset!"

"I know," Joe said sadly.

"You know?" Caitlin said in surprise, "Why? Is he with you now?!"

"No," Joe said, "He was here a while ago. Iris found something and—"

"Joe, you need to listen to me," Caitlin said urgently, "Barry saw Dr. Holland here."

Joe's chest tightened instantly.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"He walked right into the cortex and found us working with her," Caitlin explained frantically, "He almost killed her, Joe. He wouldn't listen to us, wouldn't let us explain. He flashed out of here before we could talk him down."

"Oh, my God," Joe gasped, and he noticed Henry and Iris both look at him, giving him worried looks as they were no doubt wondering what had happened now.

"Where is he now?" Joe asked frantically.

"I don't know," Caitlin answered.

That question was answered when suddenly a violent flash of light burst through the house, flashing through the dining room and out the door again.

"Where'd he go?!" Iris asked immediately.

"I don't know," Joe said worriedly.

"What's going on?" Caitlin asked on the other side of the line.

"Barry was just here," Joe told her, "But he left. Flashed in and out."

"The laptop's gone!" Iris shouted.

Henry whipped out his cellphone and attempted to call his son.

"It's going straight to voicemail," he said after only one ring.

"We have to find him," Joe said urgently, then held his phone back up to his ear with Caitlin still on the other side of the line.

"Caitlin," he said seriously, "Can you track him?"

"He's not wearing his suit," she said, "And his phone seems to be disabled."

"Dammit!" Joe yelled, "We have to find him now!"

"Cisco's starting facial recognition software right now," Caitlin said, "We'll find him Joe, and we'll make this right."

* * *

They were looking for him. Barry knew they would be looking. The first thing he did was ditch his phone, smashed it and left it in a gutter. He wouldn't make it easy for them. He went out to the dessert, the same one that Ronnie and Professor Stein had gone to to separate, causing a nuclear explosion. The land was dead and empty, the same way how Barry felt right now, but it served as a good spot for him to go to process everything. There, at least, he wouldn't be picked up by any facial recognition software.

He couldn't stay at home. He couldn't bear to stay there with them after everything that had just happened. He couldn't believe they had betrayed him like this. Barry looked down at his trembling hands. A few minutes ago they had been wrapped around Dr. Holland's throat. He had really just been face to face with Dr. Holland. He was still in shock from it. It didn't feel real. He didn't understand. How could she have been in STAR Labs? How could his friends and family be working with her?

Barry didn't understand any of it. All he knew was that he couldn't be near any of them right now. He may be a monster for the things he was planning on his computer, but what they had done was so much worse. They had betrayed him in one of the worst ways possible. Even if they claimed they were only working with Holland to help him, Barry didn't accept that excuse. There was no excuse for them working with that monster, no excuse why Cisco and Caitlin had been standing in the cortex having a calm discussion with her, _about him_ of all things!

He knew they would all be exchanging stories at this point. Iris would be telling them about the vendetta he had been planning, and Cisco and Caitlin would be telling everyone about what happened with Holland and how their little secret was out. Barry wondered what happened to Dr. Holland now. A part of him wished he hadn't stopped, that he had just crushed the bitch's throat while he had the chance. Another part of him was glad she was still alive. It gave him the opportunity to do so much worse to her, to give her a small taste of the horrors she had put him through. She had destroyed him, had ruined his life, and she was going to pay for everything she had done. She was going to pay along with the rest of them.

At this point, Barry was just done. He was done trying to recover. It was pointless. He was never going to recover, not with them all still out there, walking free, unpunished for what they had done to him. His family would stop him. They would try to talk him out of it, try to convince him that there was another way. But there was no other way. Barry knew what he would have to do now.

There was only one thing left to do.

* * *

The others all tried frantically to find Barry. Cisco and Caitlin worked at STAR Labs, desperately hoping to find him through facial recognition. They tried to track the IP address of his computer that he had taken with him, but it turned out Barry had removed the hard drive and ditched the laptop along with his phone. They had found both dismembered in an alley a few blocks away.

Joe and Henry both drove around, looking for Barry, although they both knew the chances of one of them spotting him simply walking down the street were slim. Barry knew better than to do that. He knew how to not be found.

Iris monitored for reports of Flash sightings. Barry hadn't been acting as the Flash for a long time, but people would still report it if they had seen a streak of yellow lightning flashing its way through the streets of Central City. But there were no reports, no sign of the Flash anywhere.

Three days passed without any sign of Barry. He didn't try to reach out to them, didn't make any contact. They feared they had lost him forever, but then on the fourth day after he had left, they suddenly had a hit.

"We just got a hit on our facial recognition for Barry," Cisco said frantically into the phone to Joe, "He's at Central City National Bank."

"I'm heading there now!" Joe said immediately, making a left to head towards the bank.

Barry was gone by the time he got there, though. Joe dialed Cisco's number immediately.

"Where did he go?" he asked urgently, "Do you still have him?"

"He's gone," Cisco said quietly, "He…he cleared out his bank account. Took it all in cash and flashed out of there."

Joe didn't say anything in response. He knew what this meant. Barry wasn't planning on coming back. He was gone, and he would never be coming home.

Two weeks passed. Two weeks, during which they had no idea where Barry was or what he was doing. They wondered if he was alright, afraid of what he was planning to do.

But they already knew what he was planning. He was going to go after them. He was going to get his revenge.

A part of them still maintained the hope that Barry was going to come home eventually, that he just needed time to clear his head and then he would come home and give them the chance to explain, a chance to sit down and talk about all of it. Every time the phone rang, they hoped to God it was Barry calling, but it wasn't.

Until one late night, at ten o'clock, two weeks after Barry had left, they got a call.

Iris didn't recognize the caller ID, but she answered it immediately, half-resigning herself to the fact that it was probably just another stupid telemarketer.

"Hello?" she answered.

There was no reply. She thought she could almost hear someone breathing on the other side of the line, though.

"Hello?" she asked again.

Still no reply. The breathing sounded strained, the person's breath hitching every now and then. That's when the thought struck her.

"Barry?" she said quietly into the phone, "Barry, is that you?"

It took him a few moments to answer, and when he did, his voice sounded tired and weighted.

"It's me, Iris," he said sadly.

"Oh, my God! Barry!" she practically yelled into the phone, "Please, Bar! Please, you have to come home! You have to—"

"I'm not coming home, Iris," Barry said softly.

"Barry," she pleaded, "If you just give us a chance to explain, then everything will make sense. I promise, we'll—"

"I know," Barry said in a strained voice, "I know you guys were only trying to help me. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I understand that now."

"So come home!" Iris cried, "Come back to us. Back to _me_."

Iris heard Barry sigh shakily and could tell that he was at war with himself. When he spoke, she thought she could hear tears in his voice, as if this was paining him just as much as it was paining her.

"I can't," he said quietly, "I need more time. I need…I need to find some peace."

"Barry, I know you think you need revenge," Iris reasoned, "But there are other ways. We can still work this all out. Just come home! We love you, Barry, and we want you here with us!"

"I love you, too," Barry choked.

He took a deep breath before he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"That's why I'm so sorry…but I have to do this."

With that, the line went dead.

* * *

 **Important: This was the end of part two. You can find part three, "Vendetta," through my profile if you wish to keep reading.**


	20. Author's Note

**AN:**

 **Part 3, Vendetta, is now up. You can find it through my profile :)**


End file.
